


remedy for the malady

by waitfornight



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Catholic School, Depression, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Setting, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Running Away, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfornight/pseuds/waitfornight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr is in love with his childhood best friend, Charles Xavier. </p><p>But Charles is harboring dark secrets and spiraling out of control, trapped in a vicious cycle of self-hatred and loathing. While his mother and step-father try to keep him isolated and submit him to the warped teachings and guidance of the Catholic priest, Father Shaw. </p><p>Erik has to learn that love won't be enough to save Charles while trying to help him defeat the demons both inside his head and without.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erik

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much to the talented [shadow-drawings](http://shadow-drawings.tumblr.com/) for creating the amazingly gorgeous artwork featured throughout this story. <33333 
> 
> Inspired largely by [this gifset](http://dannysheld.tumblr.com/post/99986919655/happy-tuesgay) and bits and pieces of both the film and novel versions of The Virgin Suicides. Story will alternate between Erik’s and Charles’ POV and will include warnings as needed in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much to [shadow-of-cherik](http://shadow-of-cherik.tumblr.com/) for creating a beautiful collage inspired by this fic which you can see [here](http://shadow-of-cherik.tumblr.com/post/119366853316/inspired-by-this-wonderful-fanfiction-remedy-for)

Car headlights cut through Erik’s room, the sound of tires against pavement and low revving engine temporarily muting the soft sounds creeping in through his window screen. Erik lay on his bed, watching the light pass over his maroon painted walls and beat up old poster of The Beatles, flicking open the lid of his cheap drugstore lighter, spinning the wheel, the spark of flint igniting the wick as he holds his cigarette to the flame. Waving his hand to clear the smoke curling up before his eyes and shooting Alex a grudging look as the other holds his hand out in expectation of bumming one for himself. Capturing his own cigarette between his lips, Erik digs out the half empty pack hidden inside his jacket on the other side of the bed, sliding one free.

Alex takes it from him with an easy grin but before Erik has a chance to light it for him Alex turns away, his attention drawn toward the window as the noise next door grows louder and more obvious, sharp laughter slicing through the softer quiet of Erik’s room.

Erik takes a drag off his cigarette, closing his eyes, holding it for a breath before exhaling a cloud of smoke, listening to the closer sounds of Alex moving from the floor beside his bed to the window, pushing textbooks and notebooks out of the way of Erik’s telescope as he positions it to where he wants.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Alex mutters in contempt. “ _Azazel_? No one can stand that guy. What the fuck is _wrong_ with Charles?”

Erik’s eyes open, narrowing darkly at his ceiling. “Charles is with Azazel?”

“What a fucking douchebag,” Alex snorts, leaning away from the eyepiece of Erik’s telescope, swinging it around until it’s facing Erik’s direction. “See for yourself.”

Erik raises himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, letting his socked feet touch the wood floor. That telescope had been a gift from his mother four years ago, shortly after Erik had shown an interest in astronomy and won a middle school science fair for his presentation on light and electromagnetic radiation. _If she only knew the sort of things he used it for now._ He slides forward off the bed, turning his overhead light off before dropping to his knees beside Alex, looking through the eyepiece, peering into Charles’ second-story bedroom directly across the street.

Charles’ ceiling-fan light is turned on, his windows and curtains thrown open to the world so that any passerby on the street or sidewalk below, if they should bother to look, will see him sitting on the edge of his bed, naked from the waist down, his uniform shirt rumpled and unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Grinning up at Azazel shamelessly, his pale thighs splaying open wide, his cock flushed pink and already half hard.

Erik’s mouth goes dry as Charles begins lazily stroking himself, sliding his foreskin up and down his shaft, his head lolling forward as his grip tightens and picks up speed, swiping precome from the head on each pass. Once fully hard, his erection straining up towards his belly, he leans back on his elbows, still staring at Azazel with that same bold grin.

Azazel takes the few steps forward into Charles’ space and lowers himself to the floor, placing his hands on Charles’ knees and pushing his legs apart even farther, slipping a hand between Charles’ legs to cup his balls and even from across the street Erik doesn’t miss the way Charles’ body jerks in reaction to his touch.

Azazel’s teeth bare in amusement, his eyes pinning Charles in place as he dips his head to lave Charles’ cock with his tongue. Charles’ mouth falls open in a red _o_ , his head tipping back, exposing the white column of his throat.

Erik feels like he can’t draw in enough air, heartbeat furious in his chest, his cigarette abandoned and forgotten to the ashtray on his windowsill. His groin tightening without his consent and despite the queasy feeling in his gut and the fact that Alex is still in the room with him. In all the times he’s ever spied on Charles this is the first time he’s ever seen anyone go down on him. Usually Charles is the one getting on his knees.

Azazel sucks and laps at Charles until he has him trembling, one of Charles' hands clutching feebly at the back of Azazel’s head. His features contorting into a near pained expression as Azazel suddenly pulls off of him, leaving his cock jutting up into empty air, wet with saliva and swollen an angry red.

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers.

Across the street Charles pleads weakly with Azazel to finish him, his chest heaving and his hips twitching erratically, seeking relief from the tension coiled in his lower half. Azazel’s saying something but it’s low enough that neither Erik nor Alex can understand what. Charles closes his eyes, nodding affirmatively and Azazel’s mouth takes him in once more.

Charles’ arms give out, landing him flat on his back, his body writhing as Azazel holds him down by one of his hips and continues sucking him off, his other hand crawling over Charles’ stomach and chest to pinch and pull at his exposed nipples. Charles’ neck arches, his head thrown back, mouth opening in a silent scream, his hands clenching fistfuls of the pale blue duvet beneath him as his hips stutter frantically against Azazel’s hold.

Azazel doesn’t let up even when Charles dissolves bonelessly into the mattress, not until Charles whines from the overstimulation and shoves him off.

Erik’s palms are sweating against the smooth body of the telescope, his inhalations shaky as he raises his head from the eyepiece long enough to force himself to breathe evenly, pointedly ignoring the look Alex is giving him before peering through it once more.

Azazel has backed off, grinning lewdly at Charles from the foot of the bed as he rises back to his full height and quickly begins shucking his clothes.

“I can’t fucking watch this anymore,” Alex says. “If I see that asshole’s prick I swear I’m gonna hurl.”

Erik doesn’t answer, unable to look away, already feeling sick himself as Charles slides unsteadily from the bed and digs around in the top drawer of his dresser before returning and tossing Azazel a condom and a bottle of lube. Laying himself back across the bed on his stomach just as Azazel frees his already hard cock.

Alex swears in disgust, getting up from the floor, stepping back over his and Erik’s scattered homework. Erik finally pulling away from the eyepiece just as Azazel grabs hold of Charles’ ass cheeks, spreading him apart.

Erik’s hands are shaking, his belly twisted into knots by a combination of jealousy, anger, and the shame of his own arousal at seeing Charles brought to orgasm.

Alex is back on the floor beside Erik’s bed, gathering his books and chemistry homework into his bag. “He’s uh…he’s gotten pretty wild lately, huh?” he asks uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on his task even as he speaks.

Erik sinks back down on his bed, trying and failing not to look out the window at Azazel fucking Charles from behind. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, bitterness creeping in around the edges of his voice.

Alex looks up at him briefly before dropping his gaze again. “Look everybody knows Charles is sort of messed up and everybody _also_ knows you’ve been slobbering all over yourself for him.”

“What are you trying to get at?” Erik asks flatly.

Alex frowns down at his bag, zipping it closed. “I’m trying to say that I get that you think you’re in love with him or whatever but sooner or later you need to realize he’s pretty fucked up and you trying to get yourself into a relationship with him might not be the smartest move right now.”

“He’s just trying to get attention,” Erik says defensively. Unsure if his spike of anger toward Alex is on Charles’ behalf or his own.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Alex says, turning back toward the window as Charles’ moaning next door interrupts them. “But shit,” he says, shaking his head as Erik gets back up and bends down to look through the telescope eyepiece again.

Charles is clawing at the blankets, hiding his face in one of his pillows while Azazel thrusts into him. A brutal, relentless pounding that increases in frenzy until Charles is shoved up and down the mattress, one of Azazel’s hands grabbing a fistful of his hair, shoving his face deeper into the pillow.

“He’s hurting him,” Erik snarls angrily, backing away from the window. His hands clenching into fists. He’s on the landing outside his bedroom, heading for the stairs when Alex stops him.

“Where are you going?” Alex asks.

“I’m going to stop him.”

“What are you gonna do?” Alex asks. “Run over there, break the door down and cry  _no, Charles, you can’t be having sex now, you have school in the morning._ ”

“Azazel’s fucking hurting him,” Erik repeats heatedly. “He _can’t_ hurt him.”

Alex looks skeptical. “Erik, I care about him too, okay. But I’m pretty sure Charles knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he invited that asshole over. If Azazel’s being a little rough with him, it’s because Charles _wants_ him to be.”

“Fuck you,” Erik snaps.

“Jesus, dude, you need to calm the fuck down and listen to me. _Charles_ invited him in, _Charles_ made the decision to have sex with him, and you don’t get a say in any of it, so you need to just _calm down_.”

Another loud moan tells them Azazel has finished. Erik seething in silent fury while Alex looks at him pityingly, shaking his head again as Erik stalks back through the doorway.

Charles doesn’t move at all, his face still buried in his pillow. Azazel though, has gotten up off the bed and is dressing hurriedly, his lips moving as he does so but again, he’s quiet enough that Erik can’t tell what he’s saying. Charles doesn’t react to his words in any way Erik can see, Azazel hesitating a minute longer, sparing Charles a parting glance before escorting himself out of the room. He appears moments later through the front door of the house rather than scaling down the tree outside Charles’ main window as Charles’ nighttime guests are usually made to do, cursing a dog as it barks at him, cutting his way across three perfectly manicured front yards before slipping past the gate at the end of Heritage Drive.

Erik and Alex both glare down at him as he passes beneath them, watching him saunter off down the street, illuminated every so often by a streetlight or the beams of a passing car.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks once they lose sight of him.

Erik nods wordlessly, not really paying attention to the words. He dares to look one more time through the telescope. Charles is sitting up at least, leaning against the headboard and hugging one of his pillows to his chest. Even through the telescope, even from across the street, Erik can tell that his eyes are bloodshot.

Charles scrubs a hand through the mess of his hair, mussing it even further until it’s sticking out in every direction, he’s staring listlessly at the opposite wall but turns suddenly to face his open window, his blue eyes piercing Erik in the dark. Erik and Alex both flinch away from the window at the same time and Erik swears he can hear Charles laughing quietly on the other side of the street.

*

After Alex had gone home and after Erik had heated up a TV dinner in the microwave, he found himself back in his dark bedroom, perched at the foot of the bed, staring out the window. He has the perfect view of Charles’ house and of Charles’ bedroom, each of their rooms on the second-story and straight across from the other. Erik debated with himself on just getting up and going over there while eating his dinner. Charles’ parents weren’t home and he’d seen Cain leave earlier just after school, Raven was almost certainly with Irene which left Charles alone. But after Azazel had gone all the lights of Charles’ house had gone out, so either he’d left without Erik’s notice or he was telling Erik to stay away.

He glances at his alarm clock, the screen showing 11:13 so he curls up beneath his quilt and turns his TV on to an old rerun episode of Star Trek, lowering the volume until it’s only a faint drone. Battling away images of Charles with Azazel or Charles and the parade of countless others Erik’s spied in Charles’ bedroom or atop Charles’ roof in the past year as he closes his eyes and tries to find sleep.

Giggling laughter forces his eyes open again, his TV now showing an infomercial for a five-in-one blender. He grabs his alarm clock, staring at it until the numbers come into focus, showing him that it is now 3:42. He sits up and looks out his window, catching sight of Raven and Irene as they repeatedly kiss each other goodnight. Raven giggles as she pulls away yet again only for Irene to reel her back in. There’s hushed whispering and finally with one more kiss, they part, Irene watching Raven as she walks the remainder of the way to her front door alone. Only when she’s made it inside, the front room lighting up, does Irene turn and begin walking back the way she had come.

Erik watches her go, resisting the urge to call out to her and turning his attention back on the house next door, waiting to see if Charles will appear in front of the downstairs windows now that Raven has returned. He doesn’t and soon the house goes dark again. Erik shuts his TV off and lays back down, willing himself back to sleep.

He’s barely drifted off again when squalling tires outside wake him for the second time. He bolts upright, staring out the window again and this time sees Cain’s brand new silver sports car, gifted to him for his recent sixteenth birthday, come screeching to a halt at the end of the street before pulling past the gates of Heritage Drive.

He squints at the clock again, groaning miserably as he reads 4:57 on its screen and falls back onto the bed, cocooning himself up in his quilt, pressuring himself to sleep, knowing that it was likely pointless now since he has only one hour of sleep left to him at the most.

*

“Was your night okay?” Edie asks, looking wrung out and worn, clutching a steaming mug of tea as she leans against the kitchen counter, still dressed in her scrubs from the night before.

Erik feels like death and he would rather not think about last night but he nods anyway and they both smile at each other tiredly.

“I have tonight off,” she says amidst a yawn, “so maybe I’ll get around to fixing something for dinner, hmm? Would you like that?”

Erik nods again, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Erik, aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“I have to take Charles to school.”

Edie purses her lips before saying, “Charles already left, I saw him and Raven getting a ride about twenty minutes ago.”

“They did?” Erik asks as his shoulders slump.

She nods, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Is everything okay with the two of you?”

Erik lets his bag slide off his arm, back to the floor. Everything inside him feeling wound up too tight, like any moment all his secrets will come bursting out of him. He meets his mother’s gaze as she surveys him carefully, as though he’s one of her patients from work.

“Fine,” he answers.

Edie doesn’t push him, smiling again, thin and uncertain as she sets her mug down on the counter. “Eat something for me, okay.”

He grabs a breakfast hot-pocket from the freezer and heats it up, making himself sit down at the table while he eats it.

Edie continues watching him closely, sensing something off with him but unable to tell exactly what. “I’m going to take a shower and lay down,” she says when he’s almost finished. “You’ll be home for dinner?”

Erik nods, chewing slowly, eyeing the street through the screen door, watching the early morning sunlight unspooling onto the lawn. It needs mowed again, the grass long enough that it’s nearly swallowing his mother’s English violets from sight. He tells himself he’ll take care of it when he gets home before dinner and gets up, smiles at Edie reassuringly and heads out the door.

The sunlight glares off the hood of his old, white pickup truck, the door squeaking in protest as he throws it open and climbs inside. Tossing his bag on the floor, he turns the key in the ignition and glances over at the empty passenger seat, the blanket upholstery stained and splitting at the seams, showing the yellow foam underneath.  

Charles and Raven attend Catholic school while Erik goes to public school but Erik’s been driving them both ever since he got his driver’s license last year. Always leaving the extra half hour early so he’s sure to get them to Our Lady of the Sacred Heart on time. They’d walk otherwise and in fact are supposed to and believed to be as far as their parents are concerned. Kurt refusing to let either of them own a car despite the fact that Charles is seventeen and Raven sixteen.

He frowns up at Charles’ bedroom window as he pulls down the drive, his truck rattling onto the street. It’s noisy and banged up but the engine’s good. He watches his house shrinking in the rearview mirror, noticing how a few more of the shingles have slid down off the roof.

He and his mother live in an old, faded blue Victorian that had seen far better days. The very last house on the end of a modest suburban street just before North Shore Park and the wealthy iron gated Heritage Drive. A subdivision of perfect, high dollar houses congregated around the entire span of the park all the way back to the woods and Wolf Lake. Meandering bike paths and paved jogging trails weaving all through the park and around it before cutting into the woods and along the lake, past baseball diamonds and soccer fields, past a tennis court, two separate playgrounds and an aquatic center with its own outdoor swimming pool complete with waterslides. In the center of it all was a massive manmade hill used for sledding in the winter. From the top of it you could look out upon every house surrounding the park and see the top of the pavilion overlooking the lake, hidden partly away by oak trees.

Erik had been eight, he and his mother recently moved from Germany and only living on Bishop Street for a short while when construction for Kurt Marko’s house had started up. A sprawling two-story with massive cathedral-style windows at the front, high vaulted ceilings and a huge in-ground swimming pool in the backyard. When Kurt and his new wife, Sharon moved in, they brought three young children along with them.

Erik had been angry over the recent death of his father at the time, brooding and unfriendly, Charles sneaking into his yard and catching him one day in the act of pretending to be a dragon burning an entire village to the ground. Charles was quiet and small for his age, furtive and easily spooked by loud noises or people he didn’t know touching him or getting too close but he’d been drawn to Erik and in return Erik held onto him fiercely. The two of them sharing a common bond in that they’d both lost their fathers too young. Charles’ father, Erik learned had sat up late one night in his London office, put the barrel of a pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger, leaving Charles and his sister and mother alone.

*

Erik is picking halfheartedly at his lunch, leaning his head against his hand when Irene settles into the empty spot beside him. Glancing over at her, he watches her lay her dream journals down on the table and carefully unfold the paper away from her turkey sandwich.

“Bad night?” she asks gently, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and how he’s sitting just a little bit stiffer than usual.

Erik nods gloomily. “I saw you with Raven last night.”

“Was Charles with you?” she asks.

Erik glances at her sideways again, the misery evident in his voice when he answers. “No. Kurt actually has a business trip where he and Sharon are gone the entire night and I ended up helping Alex with his homework and eating a TV dinner alone.

“You could have come with me and Raven.”

“No offense, but no thanks,” he says. “Besides, you don’t really mean that. I’d just be a third wheel to you both.”

“Not last night. We went bowling, there was karaoke afterwards. Anna Marie went with us.”

Erik looks up at Alex over at the next table as he leans into Armando, the two of them sharing a quick kiss before Alex laughs and stands up. Erik scowls and stares back down at his food, resolutely ignoring the sight of them.

Irene tucks a wayward strand of her hair behind one ear, noticing the sudden tight clench of his jaw. “Let me see your hand,” she says.

“What?” Erik asks, turning to face her.

“Come on,” she says serenely. “I’ll read your palm and tell you your future.”

Erik snorts cynically but does as she asks, laying his hand palm side up on the table.

She takes his hand in hers carefully, examining the lines of his palm closely. “Interesting,” she says.

“What is?” he asks.

“You’re in love.”

Erik sighs and slides his hand back away from hers.

“But you’re not happy about it,” she decides with a touch of sadness. She studies him carefully a moment longer before saying, “I’ll invite you to come with us next time.”

“To do what?” Alex asks as he and Armando sit down across from them.

“Charles disappeared last night,” Irene says, “so after you were finished with your homework, Erik was by himself.”

Alex and Armando exchange a meaningful look before Alex turns to Erik and says, “you haven’t told her?”

“Told me what?” Irene asks.

“Charles got screwed by Azazel last night,” Alex says. “Fucking did it with the lights on again.”

Erik shifts uncomfortably while Irene scrunches her nose up. “ _Azazel_? Raven doesn’t know that.”

“Can we _not_ talk about this?” Erik asks.

Irene eyes Erik knowingly and nods, patting the back of his hand and throwing Alex a dark look to silence him. “Speaking of Raven and Charles,” she says, “since today’s the last day they have to themselves before Kurt comes back, we’re going to the pavilion after school. Do you want to come?”

“I’ll come,” Armando smiles. “I’ve got a model helicopter I just finished improving that Sean attached a camera to and I want to try it out over the lake.”

Beside him Alex nods and Irene looks at Erik. “Come,” she insists.

“Yeah,” Erik says finally. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

*

“Gross,” Sean laughs, leaning halfway across the picnic table to shove at Alex on the other side. “That’s just gross. Not that Charles taking dick is gross, you know what I mean, that’s cool but not Azazel’s dick, that’s just wrong.”

“Angel told me Azazel doesn’t like using a condom and comes up with every excuse not to,” Armando says. “He actually says they don’t make a condom that fits him, says he’s too big.”

“No that’s a real problem,” Sean says. “I run into it all the time myself.”

“Sean,” Armando says with a laugh, “everybody here knows you’ve never had sex.”

Erik almost laughs until he catches sight of Charles out of the corner of his eye.

“Did you sick fuckers enjoy the show last night?” Charles hisses, throwing his bag onto the table, startling Erik as he drops down beside him. Glaring first at Alex before staring hard at Erik’s profile, waiting for a response before reaching out and snatching Erik’s water from his hand without asking for permission.

Erik tries feigning ignorance, turning to face Charles with what he hopes appears like innocence.

Charles snorts at the sight of it. “You were watching me, my friend.”

“You wanted to be watched,” Alex says. “You had the lights on and the windows open. You were over there moaning.”

Erik can feel his ears growing hot beneath Charles’ scrutiny while Alex talks.

“Not by you,” Charles says distractedly, still looking at Erik, watching his face turning red.

“What?” Alex asks.

Charles’ gaze mercifully leaves Erik long enough to say, “I said I don’t want to be watched by you.”

“But you _do_ want to be watched,” Sean says. “So you’re like an exhibitionist or something now?”

“Shut up,” Charles says to him, kicking him underneath the table.

“Dude, you fucking did it with Azazel and that’s just nasty,” Sean says.

“No one asked you,” Charles answers, smoothing down the striped tie of his school uniform.

“Oh, Azazel,” Sean cries, mocking Charles’ posh British accent, “I find your tallywacker simply exceptional.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Charles replies coolly. “And no one uses the word _tallywacker_.”

“Alright,” Raven warns, stepping through the trees with Irene, “enough. I don’t want to hear anything more about Azazel’s or anyone else’s penis today.”

Charles presses himself into Erik’s side to give Raven and Irene room beside him.

“How’s life in the Catholic sect?” Alex asks.

“Awful,” Raven groans, shrugging off her uniform jacket and starting a tirade on her long loathed calculus teacher, Sister Mary Edwards. 

“Come with me,” Charles whispers against Erik’s ear as she talks, grinning as Erik shivers and tugging on his hand.

Erik does as he’s commanded, getting up from the table and following after Charles through the trees, leaving the others' voices behind as they walk down the steep hill at the edge of the pavilion to the water’s edge. Charles leads him to an older dock bleached pale from the sun that hardly ever gets used anymore. Watching as Charles picks a stone up from the ground and walks the length of the dock all the way to the edge where he stares down into the water before turning to face Erik.

Erik’s still standing at the other end, half afraid to come too close. “Why do you do it?” he asks softly, before he can suppress the words.

Charles sighs, turning back around and hurling the stone far out into the water. “I do it because it feels good, Erik.”

“No,” Erik breathes, looking down. It’s easier to look at the water, at the sun reflecting off its surface rather than risk staring at Charles directly. “I mean, why do you let people you don’t like…” he trails off, still staring at the water.

Charles makes a small sound and Erik hears the sound of his shoes hitting the wooden planks of the dock, and then he’s touching Erik’s hand with his fingertips before carefully weaving their fingers together.

“I don’t know,” Charles answers him with a small quirk of his lips when he looks up. It sounds like the truth.

“Who took you to school this morning?” Erik asks, hearing the edge in his own voice. “Was it Azazel?”

“No,” Charles says, searching Erik’s face. “Kurt asked Shaw to pick me and Raven up to make sure we actually went to school today. He even almost asked him to come by the house and check up on us last night because he doesn’t trust us. But Cain threw a bloody fit and demanded to be left in charge, the sodding ass. It was lucky though, he was gone with friends the entire time." He looks fretful for a moment before adding, "I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“Yeah,” Erik agrees, “you should have.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Charles says, looking sorry and worried and Erik finally thaws, letting Charles pull him to the end of the dock, sitting with their legs dangling over the side.

Erik’s staring at the massive houses lined up on the other side of the lake when Charles lays his head against his shoulder, his soft hair warm from the sun where it’s brushing Erik’s skin. Charles makes another quiet sound and leans away again, looking slightly uncertain as he pushes on Erik’s chest to make him lie back. A pleased expression lighting up his features when Erik does as he wants, and he shifts against Erik, laying his head on Erik’s stomach so Erik can play with his hair.

Erik prefers Charles this way, when he’s alone with Erik, softer and gentler than he ordinarily lets himself be.

“Why Azazel?” Erik makes himself ask after a while, still unable to let it go, his fingers combing through Charles’ hair.

Charles shrugs indifferently. “He was willing to blow me, so why not?”

Erik frowns up at the sky. “Yeah but…”

“Why does it matter to you?” Charles asks quietly. 

Erik can’t answer, still staring worryingly up at the sky while Charles grows more and more relaxed under his hands.

The sun’s dipped down low over the water by the time either of them move again. Erik mildly surprised Raven hasn’t shown up for Charles to demand they head for home to make sure they beat Kurt back. He’s pulled out a cigarette, barely having gotten it lit and taking a puff off it when Charles frowns at him and takes it from him, taking a long drag off it himself.

Now Charles is lying flat on his back, dangling his hand holding the cigarette over the side of the dock as he talks while Erik sits and stares down at him. “Shaw’s been encouraging me to think about joining the priesthood,” Charles says seriously. “Told me that the best thing I could do for myself now is give myself to God.” He takes another drag, releases it and starts to laugh, raucous and half mad sounding.

Erik doesn't respond, feeling partly uncomfortable but more distracted by the flash of Charles’ white teeth as he laughs and the dwindling sunlight reflecting in his eyes and caught in his dark hair, showing Erik all the coppery undertones he doesn’t usually get to see.

“What do you think he’d say,” Charles grins up at him toothily, “if I told him that I spend enough time on my knees already?”

“I don't know,” Erik mumbles, shaking his head as he tries to retrieve his cigarette.

“No,” Charles says, holding it away from him. “You shouldn’t smoke. Your mum’s a nurse, didn’t she ever bother telling you this shit will kill you?”

“Hey losers!” Alex yells from the top of the hill making them both look up. “Charles,” he calls, once he has their attention, “Raven said she’s going home and that you should think about heading that way too.”

“He’s getting on my nerves,” Charles says quietly once Alex disappears again. “Bet he got off after watching me last night.”

“Charles,” Erik pleads, his face turning red again with embarrassment, “stop.”

“Oh,” Charles murmurs sympathetically, dropping the cigarette into the water and sitting up, smirking as he ranges up over Erik’s body, straddling his legs and looping his arms around his neck. “And what about you, _mein lieber_ ,” he croons, “wank yourself off during my little performance did you?”

Erik chokes on his own breath, coughing fitfully from shock and Charles laughs again, waiting until the fit has passed before pressing his forehead against Erik’s.

*

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Edie says halfway through dinner, forcing Erik to look up from his plate.

“What do you mean?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately,” Edie says worriedly, setting her fork down. “Are you okay? Is something going on at school?”

“Mama, everything’s fine. I’m fine,” Erik insists, looking back down at his beef brisket.

“Is it because I haven’t been around a lot? I know ever since I started working nights I’ve…”

“No, Mama,” Erik cut her off, “it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“It’s just you used to talk to me and now…”

“Mama,” Erik repeats, “everything is _fine_. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

“There isn’t anything that you want to tell me?” she asks. “Because I’m here for you, I’d support you no matter what.”

Erik frowns at his plate, she knows he’s gay, he thinks to himself. Or at the very least suspects him of it.

“I have Friday night off,” she says when he doesn’t respond. “I was planning on going to synagogue if you want to join me.”

“I have plans Friday night,” he says, looking up at her again.

“Okay,” Edie answers, “that’s fine. What plans?”

“I’m going to see a movie with Charles.”

“Kurt and Sharon are letting him leave the house on a Friday night?” she asks.

“Not exactly,” Erik admits.

“Oh, well…maybe some other time then,” she says, looking as though she wants to say more but decides on letting it go for the night.

He’s sitting at his desk back in his room trying to finish an essay Howlett’s assigned for history when screaming from next door drags his attention away from his paper. It’s Raven’s voice he hears as he moves from his desk to the window. Charles’ bedroom light is on but the curtains are closed. Raven he sees briefly in front of the living room window, still shouting and waving her hands in anger. She stills and in her quiet he can hear Kurt bellowing and sees Sharon come to stand in front of Raven, gripping her shoulders with both hands like she’s trying to shake her.

Charles’ voice he hears a moment later at the same time Kurt starts up again, then Sharon releases Raven and throws the curtains closed and Erik can see nothing else. It grows quiet again and he waits, listening for a long time but nothing else happens, everything calm and quiet once more. He moves back to his desk, staring back down at his notes but unable to focus on the words any longer. So after a few more minutes he gets ready for bed and turns out the lights.

He opens his eyes only a couple hours later, shivering slightly, his heart beating faster than normal as he waits for the room to come into focus. He startles briefly as his eyes land on Charles standing quietly at the foot of his bed in the dark before relaxing again.

“Charles?” he whispers, scooting to one side of his bed and pulling the covers back in invitation.

Charles moves then, crawling up the foot of the bed and under the covers, letting Erik situate him until he’s wrapped warm and safe in his arms. Erik frowns, feeling the way Charles is shaking against him and pulls him closer, carding his fingers through his hair, listening to the small sounds escaping him as he lets Erik's hands soothe him. Erik drags his hand from Charles’ hair to his back, rubbing slowly down his spine and back up again until Charles’ shaking eases and finally stops.

“What happened?” Erik asks once Charles has settled.

“Sharon found Raven’s tarot cards,” Charles whispers drowsily into Erik’s pillow.

Erik’s eyebrows raise in the dark, the scene that had unfolded in front of the downstairs window making more sense to him now. Kurt and Sharon being intensely religious and refusing any form of what they see as the devil’s work in their household.

“Was that all?” Erik asks.

Charles makes a noncommittal sound and turns, fitting his back against Erik’s chest and pulling Erik’s arm around himself, clinging to Erik’s hand with his. He goes still then and after a while Erik knows he’s fallen asleep, his arm rising and falling with Charles’ breathing, Charles’ hair tickling against his face. He tries to stay awake but can’t help closing his eyes and when he opens them again it’s morning and Charles is gone.


	2. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: recreational drug use and use of homophobic slurs

Charles can feel Kurt’s eyes following him as he pads into the kitchen for orange juice, assessing Charles over the top of the morning paper. Charles feels bleary and wrung out, dragging his book-bag against the floor, pressing the heel of his hand against his right eye as his head twinges painfully, threatening him with the third headache of the week. He shuffles past his mother who stands balanced on red high heel shoes at Kurt’s side, her focus intent on sprinkling sugar over the pink surface of Kurt’s untouched halved grapefruit in a failing attempt to get him to eat healthier.

As Charles throws open the refrigerator, blocking Kurt and his mother temporarily from sight while he bends forward, grabbing the juice off the bottom shelf, Kurt suddenly clears his throat and speaks from the head of the breakfast table, his voice unsettlingly calm.

“Is there something you would care to share with us?”

Charles straightens, gripping the bottle tightly, feeling the cold plastic beneath his fingertips, willing his tired brain to wake up. He’d snuck out last night, the same as always, waiting until he was sure Sharon and Kurt were asleep before scaling down the tree outside his bedroom and letting himself into Erik’s house with the key Erik had given him five years ago. He’d crept back into his own bedroom while it was still dark, an hour before Kurt’s alarm went off. _Suppose they had checked on him though during the night_ , he bites his lip and looks off through the kitchen windows, quickly trying to fabricate a lie.

There’s a black lab barking outside in their neighbor’s yard, running up and down the length of the privacy fence as a girl passes on a bicycle on her way to school. Charles’ eyes follow her through the glass, his shoulders stiffening as Kurt continues on in the same tone Charles has come to associate with being punished.

“Answer me, Charles. Is there something your mother and I should know about? Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Charles sets the bottle down on the dark granite countertop and turns. Sharon has frozen at the side of the table, her eyebrows knitted together and her thin lips set firmly.

Charles stares at her rather than Kurt, unable to help noticing that her mascara has smeared in the corner of one eye. She averts her gaze from him the moment they make eye contact, as if he’s carrying a disease and the mere act of looking at him is enough for it to catch.

Her lips go even thinner, one of her pale hands reaching behind Kurt to the buffet. From the top drawer she produces the box of condoms and nearly empty bottle of lube Charles had carelessly tossed back into his dresser the night he’d let Azazel up into his room, setting them down on the thick glass tabletop in front of Kurt. Charles’ eyes widen at the sight of them, flicking back up to his mother’s.

“I just…” Sharon says, wringing her hands together, sounding as though she’s spent the entire night crying, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

Charles opens his mouth and immediately closes it again, searching for something, anything to say that will make this go away. His gaze sliding off toward the archway and into the living room at the sound of Cain’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

Muscular and bulky, bag slung over his shoulder, Cain breezes into the kitchen, the flop of his blonde hair brushed to one side, a football letterman jacket thrown over his shoulders that he refuses to be without even on the hottest of days. He snorts at the sight of Charles’ incriminating box of condoms, a sound he quickly turns into a coughing fit at Sharon’s deep frown.

Sharon accepts Cain’s kiss on her cheek, the faint ghost of a smile briefly lighting her face before it vanishes again as Cain says he’ll be off to school now and turns away. Facing away from their parents, Cain leers at Charles on his way past, knocking into him with his bag as he brushes by and heads out the door. A moment later Charles hears the sound of his car engine roaring into life before he peels off down the drive.

With the distraction now gone, Sharon and Kurt are left with only Charles, the blight of their lives, short and thin, shivering slightly with a combination of anxiety and anger. Before he can defend himself Charles hears the floor creak from the next room and looks sideways again, this time to see Raven at the foot of the stairs, her hand placed on the balustrade, silent and uncertain as she finally comes forward into the kitchen to stand beside him, fidgeting fretfully with her uniform skirt. Her blue-green eyes locking with his for a moment in silent apology.

“You weren’t in your room last night,” Kurt says to him, still calm but Charles knows the explosion is waiting just beneath the surface. “And if you weren’t in your room, where were you?”

Charles breathes in slowly, lowering his gaze, there’s nothing he can say that will meet their approval and letting them know he sneaks into Erik’s house to sleep at night is completely out of the question, so he finally settles on just staying silent and lets them come to their own conclusion.

“How long have you been sexually active?” Sharon whispers, her words sparking the wick of something ugly and dark inside Charles.

He lifts his eyes and stares openly at Kurt, who for the first time doesn’t look as formidable as he did only a moment before. Charles feels jittery and loose inside his own skin, his hands twitching at his sides, restless and seeking out something to hold onto. He settles for crossing his arms over his chest and clutching at his sleeves. Instantly wishing he were stronger than he is, that he were braver.

He can hear the blood thumping in his ears when he says, “define _sexually active_ ,” a sharp bite to the words.

Kurt clears his throat again, his gaze wavering only for a moment before it resettles, one of his large fingers pointing at Charles and Raven as he says, “let me make this perfectly clear, _occultism_ will not be tolerated in this house, _sex_ and _perversion_ will not be tolerated in this house. Your poor mother and I are very disappointed in the both of you. Raven you will…”

“They’re only cards,” Charles says, trying to deflect Kurt’s focus off Raven and back onto himself. “They’re meant to be fun.”

“ _Fun_ ,” Sharon repeats scathingly, her eyes bright and furious, “does burning in hell sound fun?”

“Mom, if you would just listen to me,” Raven bursts out pleadingly.

“I made an emergency call last night to Father Shaw,” Sharon speaks over her, her tone clipped. “Charles you’re to remain after school for private counseling. Raven you’ll be seeing Sister Caroline.”

Neither Charles nor Raven answer at first and so Sharon raises her voice once more.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Charles says finally, turning away from Sharon and Kurt.

“Mom,” Raven tries again, but Charles pulls on her arm.

“No, come on,” he says, leading her toward the front door.

He moves quickly down the drive and past the gate, his steps not slowing until he reaches the sidewalk where he pauses to look up at Erik’s window. He feels like he’s about to come right out of his own skin, not knowing what it is that he wants, if it’s nicotine or sex, or something that will numb the inside of his head and make his limbs feel like they’re floating away. Or maybe he just wants to be held by someone while they tell him everything’s going to be okay and keep him safe.

He starts walking again, squinting against the sun and feels his head give another painful twinge.

“I tried,” Raven says, following on his heels. “I tried to keep her from searching your room too but she was in one of her moods again.

“I thought she was asleep,” Charles says.

Raven falls in step beside him and shakes her head. “So did I, but I guess after she burnt my deck she went into her bedroom and called Shaw. He told her she should search your room too for _incriminating materials_. She threw a fit when she found out you weren’t in bed. I didn’t know what to tell them, so I said I didn’t know where you were.”

“It’s alright,” Charles says, leading her down the sidewalk. “It’s not that bad. They only think you’re playing with magic cards, they don’t know anything else. They don’t know about Irene.”

“But what about you?” she asks. “What are you going to do now?”

“Take whatever bullshit Shaw hands me,” Charles says, smiling humorlessly. “That way mother will shut up for another couple weeks about her faggot son.”

They keep walking in silence for a moment, Charles staring off at each house they pass, wondering about the people who live inside, what their days were like, if they were happy. It doesn’t take long before he hears the familiar sound of Erik’s old, rattling truck coming up behind them.

“Get in,” Erik grins at him, rolling down the passenger window.

Charles can’t help smiling at the sight of him, pulling hard on the passenger door to make it unstick and climbing onto the seat, sliding over to the middle to give Raven room. As soon as they’re both inside Erik steps on the gas and they’re off down the street.

“Did you eat?” Erik asks, glancing sideways at Charles.

Charles thinks of his abandoned juice on the kitchen counter, looks at Erik sheepishly and shakes his head.

“No,” Raven says plainly, “and I’m starving.”

They end up in the parking lot of a McDonalds three blocks away from Charles and Raven’s school. Charles is in the middle of gulping down his sugary orange juice and greedily devouring the last bits of his breakfast sandwich when he notices Erik staring at him.

“What?” Charles asks, making Raven look up from her container of pancakes.

“Nothing,” Erik says, “it’s just, you’re really quiet. It’s weird.”

Charles considers him for a moment before speaking. “I’m getting a headache, that’s all.”

“That’s not all,” Raven says adamantly, idly tracing through syrup with her plastic fork. “Mom’s gotten even more obsessive lately. She’s convinced we’re hiding things from her, and I mean, we are,” she laughs quietly, “but it’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if I’m gonna last until I graduate.”

Charles makes a sound of agreement and goes back to finishing off his sandwich.

“Last night she ransacked my room, I didn’t have everything hidden as good as I thought, and she found my tarot cards. She blew up and started screaming, and that got Kurt going. She made me sit in front of the fireplace and watch while she burned them.”

“Yeah,” Erik says, “I sort of saw some of that last night.”

He looks away from Raven and back to Charles but this time Charles averts his eyes and starts chewing anxiously on his straw. He wonders if they could skip school, if Erik could drive right on past the building and they could just keep going until they hit the stateline.

“After Charles snuck out she came back upstairs again, still on the phone with Shaw,” Raven goes on. “She and Kurt threw a fit when they found out Charles was gone. Mom went through Charles’ room too then.”

“Found my fucking condoms,” Charles mutters around his straw, looking sideways at Erik again. “Lucky that’s _all_ she found,” he cracks. “I’ve got to stay after school so I can be counselled out of being a blasphemous fag.”

Erik’s eyebrows raise slightly at his words. “What happened when you got back in this morning?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Charles answers. “I told you, I have to go see Shaw, they know I’ve probably been screwing around with guys.”

There’s a brief moment where Erik shifts uncomfortably and looks at him faintly pained but the look is gone so fast Charles isn’t sure whether or not he imagined it. Erik’s fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel when he glances away from Charles and out the windshield, across the parking lot.

“I figured Kurt would be way more pissed than that.”

“He is,” Charles says, “I’ll probably get my punishment later tonight after he’s had time to properly think about it.”

Erik looks back at him, his eyes full of concern. “Are you going to be okay? He’s not going to hit you or anything is he?”

Charles barks a laugh, “no, no, he’s not going to hit me. Don’t worry about it.”

Erik doesn’t look wholly convinced and so Charles nudges Raven and says, “Raven, does Kurt ever hit us?”

“Huh uh,” she mumbles, her mouth full of pancake.

“See,” Charles says brightly, plastering on a smile, “nothing to worry about.”

The rest of the ride is done in silence, thin snatches of a song Charles doesn’t recognize playing through the radio speakers. The breeze through the open windows making his hair flutter wildly around his face as he tips his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. It’s warm inside the truck, sunlight spread across his face, spilling down through the trees lining the streets, and Erik’s side touching his. He sighs and thinks again about asking Erik to just keep driving, the soft coolness of the breeze and warmth of the sun feels good, and the inside of Erik’s beat up truck is one of the few places where he feels safe.

It’s too soon when he feels the truck slow, his fingers digging into the blanket upholstery as he opens his eyes. Erik’s staring at him again with that same worried look.

“It’s fine,” Charles says before Erik has the chance to say anything. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks,” Raven says just before climbing out onto the curb, hauling her bag out after her.

Erik nods and looks again at Charles, looking like he desperately wants to say something. Charles stays still for a moment and leans into him, kissing him softly on the cheek and squeezing his knee before sliding back across the seat and jumping out.

Erik’s eyes are wide when Charles looks back at him and repeats again, “I’ll see you later.”

*

Our Lady of the Sacred Heart sits imposingly on one side of St. Benedict Street, directly across from the Sacred Heart Church, its bricked walls rising up toward the sky, leaving the huge shadow of a cross stretching across the street just after midday.

Charles and Raven part ways once inside its doors, Charles continuing on alone down the hall and up the stairs to the next level where his locker is located.

Before attending Charles had gone to a much pricier private school, his teachers constantly reporting to his mother that Charles was brilliant but seemed rather lazy and careless with his studies while his headmaster warned that Charles was on thin ice and would be expelled if he continued antagonizing other students and was involved in any more fights.

The last straw had come when he was thirteen and was caught with his pants around his ankles while he and another boy fondled each other in the lavatory.

He won’t forget the look his mother had given him when she had come to collect him, her face tight and drawn as if a family member had just passed away. She’d argued with the headmaster at first while Charles sat staring down at his shoes, hugging himself in a chair up against the wall. Sharon had stated that it was impossible, she had raised her son better than that. Her voice raising in pitch until she was asked to either calm down or leave.

When pressed, Cody, the boy Charles had been caught with, claimed that Charles coerced him into it, his own mother as equally horrified as Charles’ and her anger zeroed in on Charles.

He hadn’t done any such thing, Charles had protested hotly, he liked Cody, Cody liked him, it had just happened but Cody refused to look at him or speak to him after that day and in the end Charles had been told he was lucky not to have charges pressed against him.

Once home Sharon had exploded, shrieking and bawling and throwing biblical quotes at him, bewailing her lost son as if he wasn’t right there with her. Her reputation, she had screeched, what would people say about her now that he had done this?

She’d made Charles tell Kurt himself what he had done and was angered when Kurt didn’t show the same zealousness as herself. Kurt had yelled of course, focusing on the squandered cost of tuition and telling Charles what he had done was wrong and grounding him. But there was tension in his voice and he wouldn’t quite meet Charles’ eyes.

The next morning it was decided that he and his sister would attend Catholic school to glean a more tempered and spiritual education. Only Cain would remain at their former school, the bright spot in Sharon and Kurt’s lives, untarnished by Charles’ new reputation.

That night Charles scaled out of his room for the first time and walked aimlessly up and down the street, ending up in Erik’s backyard where he curled up at the back steps and fell asleep.

He woke shivering and cold, Erik poking him on the arm, the sky grey and dark, the sun still a ways off.

“What are you doing out here?” Erik had asked cautiously.

Instead of explaining what he had done, fearing Erik’s condemnation, he’d said, “you wouldn’t hurt me, would you, Erik?”

Erik had looked at him funny before answering, “course not.”

He’d explained himself then, studying Erik’s face closely for any traces of disgust. He found none and when he was finished Erik had hugged him tightly and took him quietly inside, sneaking him up to his room where he let him sleep in his bed and didn’t say a word as Charles nuzzled into his side.

Three days later Erik gave him a key to his house and told him to use it after all the lights had gone out, meaning his mother would have gone to bed and would likely be too exhausted from work to hear him come in.

If Edie knew Charles was sneaking into her house at night she never let on but Charles caught her studying him sometimes, not unkindly but as if she were trying to figure something out. She was gentle and caring with him and always had extra food on hand for him in case he showed up to dinner, telling him he was good for Erik. Especially since Erik had such a hard time making friends.

In the coming weeks his own mother would hardly look at him, spending her time away from the house at various functions, soon meeting with Father Shaw, who headed up the new church she and Kurt had begun attending and who directed them toward his school, telling them how he believed it was just what Charles needed.

They’d set up a meeting between them, Charles huddling in on himself as he was forced into the living room where Shaw had taken up occupancy on his mother’s spotless white sofa.

“Hello, Charles,” he’d beamed. “You are I are going to become great friends.”

*

The banging sound of another student dropping their books down hard on their desk makes Charles flinch, sliding into his chair as he lays his notebooks out on his own desk, looking up as Sister Eliza finishes writing out the lesson plan for the day. He blinks at the glare off the white board and turns his head, looking out the window, trying to ignore the ache inside his head, hoping it will stay a dull throb and not turn into the piercing stabs of pain that leave him shivering and close to retching.

“I want you to turn to page 157 in your social studies books,” Sister Eliza says, “and read section twelve. There will be a short quiz afterward.”

Charles watches the light out on the pavement waver back and forth, shifting as the quiet wind sways the trees and wonders what Erik’s thinking about, if he’s thinking of him.

*

After school he’s sitting on a stone bench in the shade, staring contemplatively up at the stained glass windows of the church, the image of Jesus within the large center window lit up and vibrantly alive beneath the light of the sun before a cloud blots out the rays of light and the image darkens.

His headache mostly gone now, Charles closes his eyes and sighs, waiting for Shaw to come out and collect him once he’s finished up with a meeting between another student and their father.

There’s a sudden cough close behind him that makes him startle and open his eyes, turning to find a lanky boy with olive skin, his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. At Charles’ inquiring look the boy smiles nervously and shuffles closer, his eyes glancing up at the stained glass windows before resting back on Charles.

“I saw you on my way home from school,” the boy says, not quite meeting Charles' eyes, his gaze still darting all around. “You’re Charles right?”

Charles drags his eyes from the boy’s face down to his tennis shoes and back up again, a name suddenly popping into his head. Janos.

Charles nods slowly. “Is there something you want?”

Janos laughs too quick and too loud before dropping down on the edge of the bench beside Charles. “I’m friends with Azazel,” he says, as if that explains everything. He looks at Charles waiting for a response.

“Yes,” Charles says, “and?”

Janos laughs quick and nervous again, surveying their surroundings once again before lowering his voice. “Um, so,” he says, anxiously threading his fingers back through his hair, drawing several strands free from the elastic band holding it away from his face. “I heard you were up for, um…”

And just like, Charles knows what he’s after, a leaden feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Azazel told you for a good time call me,” Charles snaps.

Janos stops talking, which Charles is grateful for, and looks at him uncertainly, edging further away down the bench. “I don’t want anyone thinking…”

“What? That you’re gay?” Charles says caustically. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? I was sure you did, she’s in my class isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Janos laughs again, “but she uh…”

“She’s a good girl,” Charles says with a nasty smile, “she doesn’t put out.”

“Right,” Janos says, still uncertain.

“And you think I will,” Charles says flatly.

Janos looks uncomfortable, like he’s about to be marked as a fag if he doesn’t stop talking. “Look forget I said anything, okay, I’ll just go.”

Charles lets him get a few steps away before his resolve caves in on itself and he calls him back. “Wait,” he says, swallowing the bitterness from his tone, forcing himself to look a tad friendlier than he feels. “I haven’t said no yet. What exactly did you have in mind?”

Janos stares at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious and so Charles smiles sweetly and it’s enough to bring Janos back around.

“I don’t know,” Janos grins shyly, “I thought you could maybe…” he trails off, gesturing quickly to his crotch.

Charles stares up at him consideringly before he says, “I live on Heritage Drive, fourth house on the right, it’s huge, you can’t miss it, bedroom’s the third set of windows facing the street on the second-story, there’s a tree you climb up, my parents are usually asleep by eleven.”

“Yeah?” Janos looks instantly more sure, a pleased flush spreading over his cheeks.

Charles’ stomach flutters at the prospect of sex, but there’s a sour taste in the back of his throat and his voice sounds strained even to himself when he nods and says, “yeah.”

*

It smells like incense past the heavy wooden doors of the church, the sunlight creeping across the stained glass making the colors flare, dust sparkling in the air above Charles.

Shaw leads him toward the altar and Charles glances behind himself, realizing they’re alone, turning back around as Shaw says his name, his black cassock robe trailing darkness behind him.

The smile never once leaves Shaw’s face as he holds out his hand. “Come, Charles,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Charles allows himself to be led off to the side to the confessional booth, staring straight ahead as Shaw’s voice crawls over him, whispered through the screen. _Confess your sins_.

Charles does, repeating himself when Shaw asks for more details, again and again. Pressing upon Charles the grievances of his sins with each word that passes his lips, making sure Charles feels sufficiently guilty, because only then can he be redeemed.

Back in the color drenched light before the altar, Shaw asks him to kneel so that they may pray together and ask for forgiveness.

Charles does as he’s told, remaining perfectly still as Shaw joins him, kneeling beside him so close their thighs touch. Charles closes his eyes, feeling Shaw’s hand settle across his lower back, wide and warm through the thin cloth of his shirt. The muscles under Shaw’s hand twitch, the urge to flinch away from the touch tearing at Charles’ concentration. Shaw rubs his back in a way that’s almost soothing and Charles forces himself still, keeping his eyes closed as he dreams of running, of following a road that leads him far away from this place.

*

He’s sprawled face down on his bed when he feels it dip in at his side, he doesn’t have to look to know that it’s Raven.

“Is Kurt home yet?” he mumbles.

“Yes,” she says softly, “you know he’s gonna say more when we go downstairs.”

Charles groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, Raven’s arm brushing his as she lays down beside him and stares up at his ceiling. The silence stretches out companionably between them and Charles has almost fallen asleep when she speaks again, wistful and soft.

“Do you ever think about just running away?”

“All the time,” Charles answers drowsily.

“We could go to California,” she says and Charles snorts in reply. “Irene had a dream about it, and Irene’s dreams always come true,” Raven insists.

“Yeah?” Charles says unenthusiastically.

“Mmhmm,” Raven answers dreamily. She turns on her side and nudges him with her knee. “Charles? Charles, I’m in love.”

“That’s great,” Charles mutters, face still buried in his pillow.

“Irene and I could get married in an orchard,” she continues, ignoring his indifference, “we could…”

They both jerk upright as Kurt’s voice rings out, calling them both downstairs.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Kurt says once they make their way to the living room. “Raven you’re grounded for the next three months. You will use the internet only for schoolwork and your phone and television are off limits until I decide otherwise.”

Raven opens her mouth, ready to argue but at Kurt’s harsh stare she withers and stays silent.

“Upstairs now,” he says to her.

Raven looks at Charles and back to Kurt, hesitating.

“Now,” Kurt barks and Charles nods, assuring her it’s alright.

“Charles, the same also goes for you,” Kurt says once she’s disappeared, “and your mother and I have decided among other things that conversion therapy may be just the ticket for you.”

“Conversion therapy?” Charles repeats slowly. “Like gay conversion therapy?”

“You’ll be seeing Shaw Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays from now on after your studies.”

Charles shakes his head, his eyes narrowing up at Kurt. “I’m not doing this.”

The moment the words leave his lips Kurt lunges forward, making Charles stumble backward until Kurt seizes him by his wrist, drawing him in close. “You don’t get to make decisions,” Kurt hisses, squeezing tight until pain shoots down through Charles’ fingers.

There’s a moment where they stare at each other wordlessly, Kurt towering above Charles while Charles breathes shakily and then Charles hears the clicking of his mother’s heels striding across the kitchen tiles and Kurt releases him.

“Unfortunately I have a dinner to attend tonight,” Kurt says, straightening his tie, watching Charles as he carefully rubs his reddened wrist. “Your mother will be accompanying me and as such you and your sister are expected to remain in your rooms for the night. Cain will be studying with friends down in the living room, so he’ll know if either of you disobey me.”

Later, back in his room, Charles is curled onto his side when Raven comes in again.

“Charles,” Raven pushes on his shoulder, “Cain’s taken off.” Charles can hear the grin in her voice. “Let’s go out, I found my phone in the linen closet, yours too, I already texted Irene, she and Anna Marie want to meet us out on the sidewalk.”

Charles lifts his head and rolls onto his back, looking at her listlessly.

“Get up,” she says, playfully thwacking him with one of his own pillows.

“Okay,” he smiles, shoving the pillow away, “jeez.”

Outside they bump into each other crossing the street, laughing quietly all the way into Erik’s yard where Charles walks up Erik’s steps and knocks erratically on his door.

“Why are you knocking?” Erik asks as he answers it, looking at Charles confusedly.

“Kurt and Sharon have dinner reservations,” Raven says with a pompous air before laughing again at the bottom of the steps.

“Come on, you’re coming with us,” Charles says, not waiting for a response as he grabs Erik’s hand and drags him outside.

“Wait,” Erik says, “Mama, I have to – she was going to make dinner.”

“Well, you’ll eat it when you get back then,” Charles says, leading him out onto the street, pleased when Erik doesn’t try to pull away.

They find Irene and Anna Marie midway down the street, waiting for them beneath the orange halo of a streetlight. Raven throwing herself into Irene’s arms as soon as she’s close enough.

“Where are we going?” Erik asks, looking at Charles.

“Cemetery,” Anna Marie answers.

“What?” Charles says, sounding put off. “Why? I thought we’d go to the pavilion.”

“We can go to the pavilion later,” Anna Marie says, crossing her arms. “I want to go to the cemetery.”

“She’s trying to capture ghosts on film,” Irene explains with a small smile.

“For the love of God,” Charles sighs, rolling his eyes.

Oak Grove Cemetery sits secluded at the very end of a dead end street two blocks away from North Shore Park. The houses dwindling away one by one as the street ascends a steep hill and the street narrows into the black iron entrance gate.

Split into two sections, the newer and tidier portion of the cemetery on the left side, the older and dilapidated on the right. They end up in the old section where many of the stones date from the 1800s and time eaten angels stare sorrowfully down at them, scattered in between the towering oak trees.

Anna Marie leads them down into a bowled portion of the earth where the single mausoleum of the cemetery sits, crawling with ivy and graffitied crudely across one side. Sitting against the opposite wall, out of sight of any patrolling officers, they stifle their laughter as Anna Marie tries communing with the dead. On her third try, her voice whispering eerily, “are there any spirits among us?” Charles can take no more and topples over laughing, burying his face against Erik’s leg.

“If y’all aren’t gonna take this seriously,” she says in annoyance. As soon as they quiet back down she sighs heavily and says, “what if I read your cards instead? Erik, you’ve never done this before, why don’t you let me read your cards.”

“Yeah,” Erik says, smiling uncomfortably, his fingers touching at Charles’ hair, “sure.”

“Great,” Anna Marie says, settling closer to him, digging her cards out of her bag. “I want you to shuffle the deck, and while you’re shuffling I want you to form a question in your mind, something you want the answer to and ask it quietly, keep it to yourself but ask it of the cards.”

“This is ridiculous,” Charles says, turning over and facing the sky, head still pillowed on Erik’s lap.

“It’s not,” both Anna Marie and Irene say vehemently.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” Charles laughs.

“Hush,” Anna Marie scolds. “Erik, try.”

“Okay,” Erik says, closing his eyes and shuffling the cards, “I have my question, now what?”

“We’ll just do a simple three card spread,” Anna Marie says, “now I want you to pick a card for the past.”

Charles watches Erik hesitantly pick a card, chuckling as he does.

“It’s the five of cups, upright” Irene says softly. “It means suffering and loss, regret and disappointment, you could have been grieving the loss of a relationship.”

“This is stupid,” Charles says. “ _You could have been grieving the loss of a relationship_ ,” he mimics, “Of course he was, he lost his father for pity’s sake…”

“Now the present,” Anna Marie says louder, ignoring him.

“Strength,” Irene says. “Hmm, the key words are inner strength, pride and determination, patience through caring, courage, self-control.”

“So this is just like an astrology chart,” Charles says, “it’s so vague it could apply to anyone.”

Anna Marie looks at him exasperatedly, tucking the streak of white running through her dark hair behind one ear as she tells Erik, “now the future.”

“The three of swords, upright” Irene says once Erik has his final card, staring down at the image of a heart run through by three swords surrounded by dreary rain clouds.

“What’s in my future?” Erik asks with a humoring grin.

Both Irene and Anna Marie exchange an awkward look before Irene replies, watching Raven reach forward to take it from Erik’s hand.

“Three of swords usually symbolizes heartbreak, betrayal, sorrow, and separation,” Irene says. “The separation might just be temporary or it could be permanent. The three swords all pointing down symbolize an ending. The piercing of the heart symbolizes emotional pain, and the rain in the background symbolizes grief.”

“Sooo?” Erik asks, his smile fading.

“I think she’s implying you’re going to suffer again,” Charles says sarcastically. “But it doesn’t matter, I told you this was ridiculous.”

“It could mean that you’ll lose something important to you,” Anna Marie says. “What question did you ask?”

Erik is quiet for a moment before speaking. “Charles is right,” he says, “this is stupid.”

“ _Erik_ ,” Anna Marie sighs.

“Well this has been cheerful,” Charles says, sitting up and leaning back against the wall. “And you know I knew it would be, so I brought this.”

Erik stares at him strangely as he digs out a clear plastic baggie of weed from his jacket pocket, holding it up for them to see.

“We have to be home before mom and Kurt, Charles,” Raven says, “I don’t think now’s really the time.”

Charles shrugs, “it’s just weed, Raven, lighten up. There’s enough to go around. Who wants some?”

Raven leans back against Irene, looking at him disapprovingly but she doesn’t stop him, and neither Irene nor Erik take him up on the offer. Anna Marie mumbling something about not daring to come back home to her aunt high.

“No? _No one_ wants any,” he says. “You guys are gonna make me smoke this all by myself? Erik?”

Erik shakes off his offer, watching with nearly the same expression as Raven as Charles digs back into his pocket, pulling out a small metal pipe and begins filling it.

“Do you know –” Charles cackles later, over the sound of crickets chirping, “do you know I have to see Shaw almost every day after school now for gay conversion therapy.”

“What?” Erik and Raven say at the same time.

Charles laughs, waving his hand at the stars, “we’re going to pray away the gay.”

“Is that even legal here?” Anna Marie asks.

Charles shrugs carelessly, “dunno. Either way, I’m sure it’s going to go the same as always. Shaw will pressure me into joining the priesthood.”

He laughs again, feeling around for his pipe to fill it again when Erik pries it away from his hands.

“I think you maybe should cool it for tonight,” Erik says. “You’re in deep enough as it is. The last thing you need is to show up at home high.”

“Charles,” Raven says, “he’s right, we need to get back.”

“Are you both turning against me now?” Charles giggles as Erik hauls him up, wrapping an arm around him when Charles stumbles into his side and giggles again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Charles says, petting down Erik’s arm. “I think I’m already high.”

“I think you are, too,” Erik says ruefully, herding him back toward the cemetery entrance, stumbling with him through the dark. Raven following after them at a distance, whispering with Irene and Anna Marie.

“You’re so lovely, Erik,” Charles says seriously, his face flushed, pressing his forehead into the warmth of Erik’s neck, “so, so lovely.”

“That’s nice, Charles,” Erik says.

“No, I mean it,” Charles insists, “I really do.”

“I know, come on.”

“I really love you, Erik,” Charles says reverently.

Erik stops walking so abruptly Charles nearly topples over but Erik catches him around the middle again before he can.

“What is it?” Charles asks, peering down through the entrance gate.

“Nothing,” Erik says, holding him more securely and tugging him along back onto the quiet street.

Charles shivers lightly, Erik feels good pressed against his side, warm and safe in the crisp, cool air of the night.

*

Later when he’s back home and the high from the weed is mostly gone and Raven is shut away inside her room and the pulsing beat of Cain’s music finally dies away downstairs, Charles ends up in the shower, feeling off balance and slightly dizzy, whether from the weed or Erik’s hands on him earlier, he isn’t sure. But he manages to wash his hair and scrub himself down, trying to chase away the lingering smell of weed. Tipping his head back, he lets the hot water soak through his hair again, rinsing away the last of the shampoo and groans quietly as the spray pelts against the knots in the middle of his back.

He breathes out through his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and turns, pressing his forehead against the shower wall, letting the water wash over him, soothing and warm as he takes his half hard cock in hand and slowly begins stroking himself. A shudder running the full length of his body as he imagines Erik in the shower with him, his arms wrapping securely around Charles, his mouth against the back of his neck while he jerks Charles off.

_“Do you masturbate, Charles?” Shaw had asked once on the other side of the confessional booth. “I understand you must be feeling certain urges.”_

_There’s callouses on the tips of Erik’s fingers and Charles had wondered there and then in the booth how they would feel dragging against the length of his cock._

_“No, Father.”_

A whimper breaks free from Charles’ throat beneath the water’s spray, his fingers scrambling at the wet shower tiles as he strokes himself almost to the edge before loosening his grip, the tension in his groin rising to a peak before falling away, and then rising once more as he takes himself back to the edge again and again.

_“Premarital activity is a mortal sin. Lust and impure thoughts will corrupt your soul, Charles. We must be vigilant against temptation.”_

He spends ten minutes teasing himself, building the tension higher, making the tingles of pleasure shooting through his groin run deeper. His hips cant up helplessly as a rush of heat floods through his pelvis, his toes curling against the shower floor.

_Charles felt trapped, closed in by the scent of burnt candlewax, his thoughts swirling out amongst the dust and heavy incense._

_“You must repent, only then can you be forgiven.”_

He cries out sharply as his cock twitches violently and pulses in his hand, spurting hard against the shower wall. Nearly slipping and falling from the force of his orgasm, shuddering and gulping down humid blackberry scented air with his eyes still closed, his legs shaky in the aftermath.

He waits until his breathing returns to normal before rinsing himself a final time, the water washing his mess down the drain before he shuts it off.

Toweling off his hair, he stumbles into his dark bedroom, dropping the towel wrapped around his waist onto the floor and digs out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt he’d stolen from Erik that hangs too big on his frame and climbs onto his bed, looking around at his room, his fingers smoothing over his white sheets. He wishes suddenly that he were across the street and considers leaving but knows for certain that his mother will be checking in later.

He sits up slightly, staring across at Erik’s faded blue house. His mother would never live in such a place, in fact she’d turned her nose up at it shortly after moving in, at its obvious age and wear and at Erik’s mother, scoffing about her being single and working herself ragged, wondering why she couldn’t get a husband.

Charles hates hearing her talk about Edie and wishes Edie were his mother instead of Sharon, that he lived in her house rather than his. His feeling vacant and hollow with its white carpet and walls, filled with granite and glass and steel, everything new and gleamingly perfect, sharp and cold.

He far and away preferred Erik’s home to his own, with its peeling floral wallpaper, mismatched beat up antique furniture, the scratched up coffee table in the living room, a hand crochet afghan made by Erik’s grandmother thrown on the back of the old sunk in sofa, light pouring warm through the windows. It was friendly and welcoming and had character, he felt safe there. The creaking noises of the house settling in the night didn’t make him jerk awake, expecting to hear someone creeping up the stairs or to feel a hand closing around his ankle.

Erik’s room is his favorite, scattered with science books and paintings Erik refuses to show to anyone but Charles, along with the twisted metal sculptures from his art class.

Erik had been inside Charles’ house before in the past when Kurt had business away and Sharon had gone with him. Erik following Charles around like they were in a museum and it was better not to touch anything.

The sound of Charles’ own name being called out breaks him from his reverie and his eyes focus on Erik across the street, staring out at Charles from his bedroom window.

Charles smiles and slides off the bed, turning on his bedside lamp and moving in front of his main window and dragging up the screen. Across the street Erik does the same so that there’s only the empty space of night between them. Charles smiles softly and drapes one arm out his window, resting his head on the other while he watches Erik pace around his bedroom, the cool air brushing over his wet hair and warm from the shower skin.

Erik looks around like he can’t find something before he suddenly drops to his knees, vanishing from sight while he paws through his things strewn across the floor. He reappears a moment later, looking back out his window at Charles triumphantly with his phone in hand.

Erik climbs onto his bed then and Charles’ own phone rings a second later. He answers it expecting to hear Erik’s voice on the other end and is instead met with the slow crooning of Joshua Tillman as he sings _I Love You, Honeybear_.

Charles laughs and beams at Erik before he drops the screen back down again and moves away from the windows, flopping backward onto his bed, holding his phone up to his ear. Turning the light off as he crawls under his covers and let’s Erik take him through a mix of four more songs. He’s in the middle of _Family and Genus_ by Shakey Graves when he finally falls asleep, a faint smile lingering on his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Father John Misty - I Love You, Honeybear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57yHnFN0J-M)
> 
> [Shakey Graves - Family and Genus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4LF7vx9oSk)


	3. Erik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Homophobic slurs AND after thinking about it, a potentially slight amount of dubious consent between Charles and Erik in scene 5, I think?? I don’t intend for it to be dubcon but just in case.

Inside the Sacred Heart Church everything is aged and carved, the wood dark and rich, the pews worn and grooved from years and years of worship, the altar glowing in shafts of light spilling down through the stained glass windows. Just beyond the altar, rising above the floor, stands the figure of Mary clutching the Holy Infant.

Everything is quiet, the faces of the saints staring down at Erik in silent dismay as he passes soundlessly down the aisle in search of Charles. He’s grown bored and tired of waiting, the inside of his truck over warm and the stone bench outside hard and uncomfortable against his backside.

The smell of new spring doesn’t trespass the church doors, the air inside heavy and thick with dust and incense, candlewax and guilt. Erik pauses at the last pew just before the altar, glancing around in confusion. It’s been two hours since Shaw ushered Charles inside, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the black sleeve of his robe covering over Charles like the wing of some great bird of prey.

It’s a late Thursday afternoon and the church is deserted, the pews empty, the confessional box silent, holding its secrets close. Erik’s eye catches on the pew bookrack beside him, his fingers reaching out for one of the tattered and cracked, black leather hymn books, a plume of dust rising from its pages as he opens it, floating out into the already sparkling air.

“Can I help you with something?” Shaw asks politely, shocking Erik into almost dropping the book as he jerks around to face him.

Shaw stands straight and proud at the corner of the altar, his teeth gleaming as his lips stretch out thin in a smile.

Erik sets the book back quickly, stammering out, “I was just…I’m waiting for Charles.”

Shaw’s eyebrows inch toward his hairline but the smile doesn’t falter. “Charles is a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Erik says, not liking the way Shaw suddenly rakes him over with his eyes.

“Charles will be along shortly,” Shaw says finally, his eyes resettling on Erik’s, the barest trace of petulance in his tone.

Erik nods slowly, taking a step backwards, but not quite yet willing to leave. He still wants to know where Charles is and says so.

“Could I maybe just see Charles real quick?” Erik asks.

Color floods Shaw’s ashen face, his eyes narrowing and now the smile slips and falls away. “ _I said he’ll be along shortly_.”

Anger rises unbidden in Erik, heating his skin, his own eyes grow steely and cold as he thinks of a response but before he can speak he’s distracted momentarily as Charles’ voice cuts between them.

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles calls out in surprise, rushing forward through the swinging door leading into the church basement. “I told you to wait outside,” he says quietly, a blush high on his cheeks, creeping down his throat, past the collar of his shirt, his tie hanging slightly askew.

Erik’s stomach twists itself into knots at the sight of him. Charles, as Erik’s always known him, has always been defiant, riled up and furious, but is noticeably subdued and meeker than Erik’s ever seen in the company of the domineering priest.

“I know,” Erik says, “but it’s getting kind of late and I thought you should be done by now…am I not welcome in here?”

Charles meets his eyes uncomfortably for a moment before looking away, Shaw’s hand grasping tight to his shoulder, still eyeing Erik appraisingly as he says, “Charles, I don’t recall ever seeing your friend at church service.”

“I go to synagogue,” Erik says bitingly, the anger rising higher.

Shaw’s mouth twitches at the response, glancing down at Charles but Charles is staring at the floor, his silence seeming to rankle Shaw but he refocuses back on Erik as Erik asks, “what does attending church service have to do with anything?”

“This is a Catholic church,” Shaw replies, his knuckles blanched white against Charles’ shoulder, the pressure causing Charles to shift awkwardly under his hand, Shaw’s eyes raking back over Erik once more, arrogance dripping from his words, “and as such, _no_ , you are _not_ welcome here.”

“Erik, it’s okay,” Charles says softly, looking up at him, a sunbeam flare through the window above casting rainbow fragments over his face, “I know it’s getting late, just go. I’ll see you later.”

Erik wants to reach out and touch him, reassure himself with his fingers on Charles’ skin.

“I still have to pray,” Charles tells him, “just go.”

Erik wants to argue, to say that this whole thing is crazy but Charles’ eyes are telling him no, and Shaw is glowering at him, his entire being a dark, immovable mass, willing Erik to be gone.

Erik turns away reluctantly, walking back down the aisle slowly, pushing open one of the heavy doors, the sunlight and sweet air a relief after the dark, shadowiness of the church. Just before letting the door fall closed he looks back, watching as Charles kneels, Shaw swooping down over him, his hand snaking across Charles’ back as he too lowers his head, joining Charles in prayer.  

Charles turns his head after a moment, unnoticed by Shaw, staring back at Erik, his lips moving in silent devotion, one half of his face bared to the light flooding in through the open door, the other cast in shadow.

*

“Okay,” Alex says, “as I was saying, Bohusk is throwing a party this weekend and typically I wouldn’t go, that dude’s a dick _but_ it’s probably one of the last parties anyone’s gonna throw before graduation, so I figure why not. Anyone want to go with me?”

“I don’t know,” Hank starts to say but Alex cuts him off.

“Anyone _besides_ bozo here?”

“Man, quit calling him that,” Armando says chastisingly. “It’s cool, Hank. You can come if you want.”

“Not me,” Erik answers distractedly, looking out across the lake, at the massive houses on the other side, flicking away the ash from his nearly spent cigarette. “I don’t want to go.”

“You know Charles is going,” Alex says, looking at him, and Erik’s thoughts are immediately swept back to Charles still alone with Shaw. “And Raven. If they can pull it off.”

“What about Raven?” Irene interrupts as she sits down beside Erik.

“Bohusk’s party,” Armando says. “We’re trying to figure out who’s all going, Alex said Charles and Raven probably will if they can sneak out.”

“I don’t like Barnell,” Irene says with a small frown. “He’s mean.”

“No one does,” Alex says. “You don’t have to like him though. You just have to appreciate his parents’ full liquor cabinet.”

“I don’t like drinking either,” Irene reminds him.

“Me neither,” Hank says.

“Bozo, please stop talking,” Alex sighs before turning back to Irene. “I thought you and Raven want to live in some hippie commune or something. Don’t tell me there won’t be some indulging going on there.”

“We do not want to live in a hippie commune,” Irene protests. “It’s a _back to nature_ …”

Alex laughs over her, loud and sharp, Irene telling him to shut up as Erik stands, letting the voices of his friends dwindle into the background, worrying his bottom lip, pulling out another cigarette. He’s nearly burnt through the entire pack, he notes, tallying up what’s left. He walks to the edge of the hill, just before it descends down to the lake, lighting up as he thinks. Behind him Alex and Armando laugh crudely and Irene shrieks in disgust, Hank muttering something about that not being sanitary.

Erik’s thoughts wander back over Charles, contemplating the last year. One minute Charles acted fine, the next he was snappish and withdrawn, exhausted even. Sometimes clinging to Erik in Erik’s bed, shaking against him, groaning and murmuring things in his sleep that Erik doesn’t understand and always acting as if it had never happened the next morning.

Erik stares down at the glittering surface of the lake, watching two older men go floating past in a fishing boat, inhaling slowly, the nicotine unwinding his nerves. He turns around in the grass as he hears Irene exclaim, “ugh, _finally_ , I’ve been waiting for you.”

He’s hoping for Charles but it turns out to be Anna Marie instead, her hair and the gauzy layers of her skirt whipping back and forth in the breeze. Her lace glove clad arms crossed over her chest as Alex snorts mockingly.

“See this is what I’m talking about,” Alex says, gesturing to her, “you guys dress like this and that’s why everyone in school thinks you’re witches.”

Erik turns back around, watching the fishing boat drift away around the bend.

“Erik, don’t you want to sit with us?” Anna Marie asks sweetly, elbowing Alex in the ribs as she sits down.

“Erik’s too good for us,” Armando says jokingly and Erik sighs, falling backwards into the grass, looking up at the pale blue sky, noticing the gnats swirling in a cloud above his head, dispersing as the smoke from his cigarette climbs skyward.

“Where’s Raven?” Anna Maries asks.

“Being held hostage at a bible study group with Sharon,” Irene answers grumpily.

Erik smokes through his entire cigarette and is halfway through his third, absently picking up pieces of the conversation being had at the picnic table behind him.

“Yeah, that’s real shitty,” Alex is saying, “but come on, Bohusk’s party…”

Erik tunes out again, still staring up at the sky when Charles’ face blots out the light above him, his shadow stretching long across Erik’s body.

Erik sits up quickly, his cigarette held between his teeth as he gets to his feet, brushing away the dirt and grass from his jeans.

Charles looks wrung out and wearied, small pain lines branching out from the corners of his eyes that Erik knows are the product of a headache.

“So,” Alex says, “what was it like? Did Shaw try to exorcise the demon out of you or something?”

“Shut up,” Charles says tiredly, reaching up to take Erik’s cigarette from his mouth.

Charles doesn’t give it back, closing his eyes and finishing it off as he takes Erik’s hand and tugs, beckoning him to follow.

“Charles?” Irene asks cautiously, standing at the edge of the table.

“Raven says she’ll call you later if she can,” Charles says to her on his way past.

“I know,” Irene says, “but, Charles…”

“Not right now,” is all Charles says, not slowing.

Erik glances behind them, looking at Irene apologetically, seeing the worry etched on her face.

Erik ends up in his kitchen, digging around in the refrigerator while Charles slumps forward at his table, burying his face into his arms.

“I should go home,” Charles mumbles, “Kurt won’t be home from work for another hour yet but I don’t know when mum’s study group lets out.”

“You should eat something,” Erik says to Charles’ back. “I have pastrami.”

Charles muffles an unhappy sound and Erik goes back to searching.

“There’s leftover lasagna, you want that?”

Charles nods against his arms in response, and Erik throws the plastic container in the microwave. Once it’s heating he takes a step closer to Charles, standing right behind him, hesitating before firmly dragging his fingertips down the tense arch of Charles’ back.

Charles groans at the contact, scooting forward on his chair to give Erik more access.

“What’d Shaw make you do?” Erik asks gently, digging his thumbs into the knotted up muscle between Charles’ shoulder-blades, watching Charles’ fingers curl against the table.

“We talked a lot,” Charles says, “or he talked a lot and I pretended to listen.”

“You were in the basement,” Erik points out.

“There’s furniture down there,” Charles murmurs, “a couch…he wanted it to be like a therapy session.”

The microwave timer goes off but Erik doesn’t retrieve it just yet, his fingers kneading down to Charles’ lower back before moving back up to his shoulders. “And,” he presses when Charles doesn’t say anything else.

“It was just the usual, he wants _way_ too much information, m’supposed to start doing all these self-control exercises,” Charles says, his words starting to slur. “Gave me a bunch of books to read on how my homosexual lifestyle will breed nothing but depravity and disease…load of shit. Same sex relationships are evil, blah, blah… _God, Erik,_ ” Charles moans as Erik’s fingers travel up the back of his neck, into his hair, rubbing against his scalp.

Charles sits up then, tipping his head into Erik’s hands as Erik rubs against his temples and then cards back through his hair, the fingers of one hand brushing the delicate outer shell of one of Charles’ ears. He’s focusing on the knots at the base of Charles’ skull when Charles starts whimpering out tiny pleasured sounds that shoot straight to Erik’s groin.

Swallowing thickly, not wanting to embarrass himself by getting hard, he combs through Charles’ hair a couple more times and then turns, fetching the lasagna from the microwave along with a can of grape soda. Setting both the container and the soda down in front of Charles and handing him a fork before sliding into the chair across from him.

Charles looks drugged and drowsy, but far less tense and pained than he did earlier. Smiling at Erik blearily before cutting into the lasagna with his fork.

“I don’t know how much of this I can handle,” Charles says. “I already have to see him almost every fucking day during the week. Then I have to see him on Sunday too. I really don’t want to go to church anymore.”

“You can always come with me to synagogue,” Erik says half serious, “Mama wants me to go more often and I’m sure you’d be allowed. You might like it actually. There’s a pot luck on Saturdays.”

Charles looks up from the lasagna, smiling softly and nods. “Sure, if I’m allowed.”

The sky is glowing a soft pink when Erik crosses the street with Charles, passing through the gate of Heritage Drive. He’s lingering, not wanting to let Charles go just yet, all the things he still wants to say piling up inside him. He settles for running his hand down Charles’ arm, lightly squeezing his wrist before turning to walk back down the drive. He’s nearly at the gate when Cain’s car comes barreling in, threatening to hit him if he doesn’t move out of the way.

Charles is still standing in the entranceway, glaring hard as the ignition of Cain’s car cuts off and Cain ambles out along with one of his friends.

“Did I interrupt you two faggots?” Cain asks mockingly, making the thin boy he has in tow with him laugh as Cain looks over his shoulder to where Erik’s pressed against the gate after narrowly jumping out of the way.

“Cain,” Charles says, taking a meaningful step forward, his voice falsely pleasant, “kindly fuck off.”

“Are you gonna make me, cocksucker?” Cain asks snidely.

Charles’ teeth bare and his eyes gleam as he marches toward Cain, shoving Cain’s friend out of the way, the looseness Erik had worked into him wiped away.

“ _Charles_ ,” Erik warns, recognizing the look, pushing away from the gate and hurrying closer, “your parents are going to pull in any minute.”

“Yes,” Cain sneers, “mummy will be here soon and you don’t want to make mummy cry again do you?”

Cain’s grin vanishes as Charles launches at him, snarling furiously as Erik catches him around the waist, hauling him back before he can do any damage.

“You’ve completely lost it,” Cain says, stumbling backwards, his eyes wide. “Come on, Zach, let’s go to my room. I’d say we could hangout downstairs but I’m afraid _that_ might try to feel up your ass.”

“Cain, you’re a fucking piece of – ”

“ _Charles_ ,” Erik say, holding him tighter, “it’s just Cain. It’s _just_ Cain.”

There’s a choking laugh from the doorway from Zach as Cain mutters something under his breath before loudly adding, “you know he didn’t stop pissing the bed until he was nearly _thirteen_.”

Cain glances back at Charles with a wide grin before slamming the door closed and Charles groans miserably and shoves out of Erik’s hold.

“All I want is to smash his face in,” Charles snarls.

“Charles, you’ve taken worse from him over the years,” Erik says slowly, “ _a lot worse_.”

“Erik, go home,” Charles says in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t deserve it, I’m just saying that you might wanna let this one slide considering everything going on with your parents right now.”

“Look, I’m not…I’m fine, it’s okay, just go home before my mum pulls in,” Charles says, looking back down the street and then back to Erik’s face. “Really, it’s okay. I just still have a bit of a headache that’s all, and Cain knows how to get under my skin.”

Erik feels like there’s something he should say, like there’s something he isn’t getting but Charles is already walking back towards the front door, and whatever Erik might have said dries up in his throat as he turns and crosses the street, looking up at the sky changing colors, a wash of pink that’s quickly fading into a twilight purple.

Later that night, sitting across from his mother at the kitchen table, Erik stabs through one of his Brussels sprouts, eyeing it warily before looking at Edie.

“Can I bring Charles to synagogue?” he asks.

Edie dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin and smiles, “of course. What’s brought this on?”

“Nothing,” Erik says, giving his Brussels sprout another coat of butter, as if that will help, “I just think it might be nice to take him sometimes, that’s all.”

*

Erik startles awake with a small cry, his heart hammering in his chest, his vision blurry.

“Bad dream?” Charles asks quietly in the dark, perched at the foot of Erik’s bed.

Erik settles back against the headboard, his breathing slowing down as his eyes focus and he starts to make Charles out. “I didn’t know you were there,” he says.

Charles makes a soft sound and crawls up the length of his bed but doesn’t lie down like Erik expects. Instead he sits beside Erik with his knees drawn to his chest, leaning against the headboard, the warmth of him seeping into Erik through the sheet separating them.

“Come with me,” Charles whispers.

“Where?” Erik asks.

“I want to go for a walk.”

“ _Now_?” Erik squints at his alarm clock, seeing that it’s just past 3:00 AM.

“Please,” Charles whispers again.

Erik turns his face, his nose bumping Charles’, his eyes closing with the want to close the minute space between them. “Alright,” he breathes, “just let me get dressed.”

“No one’s going to see you,” Charles says softly, his breath warm against Erik’s face, “everyone’s asleep.”

Charles moves away then, shifting back down the bed, pulling Erik up along with him. Erik settles for throwing on a sweatshirt and his shoes, following Charles down the stairs, through his dark and silent house and into the chilly night air.

The grass is wet and sparkling with dew, darkening the canvas of his shoes and wetting his socks as they cut through several backyards before following the sidewalk to where it diverges into the winding paths of North Shore Park.

Charles finds Erik’s hand, pressing himself close along Erik’s side. Erik expects him to talk but Charles seems content with the quiet, his eyes distant and contemplative each time Erik glances at him.

The sky is cloudless and as the streetlights dwindle away, it glows brighter and brighter with the dazzling pinpricks of twinkling stars.

Charles leads Erik in the direction of the dark seclusion of the pavilion but before they reach it, Charles veers, cutting across a soccer field, shuffling over the recently mulched ground of one of North Shore Park’s two playgrounds.

Charles drops down onto one of the swings, facing toward the lake and the crowd of overlarge houses, the chains squeaking as he idly toes himself back and forth.

Erik sits in the swing beside him, staring at Charles as Charles rests his head against the chain and sighs.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Charles twists the swing around, smiling softly at Erik. “Fine, m’just tired.”

Erik snorts and grins back. “ _You_ wanted to go for a walk, I could have stayed in bed.”

“It’s not that kind of tired,” Charles says gently, lifting his feet, letting the swing whip him around until he’s facing forward again.

“What does that mean?” Erik asks.

Charles heaves another sigh and tips backward until his hair brushes the ground and Erik shakes his head.

“I don’t get you sometimes,” Erik says.

“ _I know_ ,” Charles replies simply, righting himself, and before Erik can say anything else, says, “I bet I can jump farther than you.”

“What?” Erik laughs.

Charles doesn’t answer, already pumping his legs, grinning wildly, his swing climbing steadily higher and higher. Erik laughs again and joins him, the competitive streak in him taking over as he tries to catch up, determined to jump first.

Charles beats him, throwing himself from the seat of his swing just as it’s at its highest point in childlike glee. Landing with a thud in the wet grass, slipping forward, staining his knees brown and green.

Erik’s no better, stumbling into Charles just seconds after, laughing and swearing as he realizes he’s fallen short and lost.

They try seeing who can jump the farthest several more times until Erik’s knees are sore from the impact of landing and Charles leads him back along a path that circles around the baseball fields before it reaches the sledding hill.

Charles plops down at the top of the hill and smiles up at Erik. Erik grumbles as he does the same, the dewy grass soaking through his pajama pants as soon as he sits down.

There’s a sweetness floating along through the air that Erik can’t identify, like fabric softener or some nighttime flower. His side is warm where Charles leans against him, his breath a warm and contented sigh against Erik’s skin. The minutes tick away, the silence punctuated every so often by the hum of a car engine or the bark of a dog. Charles sits up straighter as a single meteor flashes across the night sky, his eyes suddenly bright and happy.

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

Erik grins back at Charles, taking hold of his cold hand as he stares back up at the sky. From the top of the hill in the dark with the stars, overlooking the whole of the park and the lake and the houses that encircle it, the world feels like it’s theirs.

They stumble back into Erik’s room when Erik can hardly keep his eyes open anymore, changing out of their wet and grass stained clothes and falling onto the bed.

Erik sets his alarm to go off in three hours to make sure Charles has enough time to slip back into his own room, and then burrows beneath his covers, wrapping an arm around Charles, drawing Charles back until he’s pressed against Erik’s front, inhaling the scent of his hair. He falls asleep almost as soon as he closes his eyes, the feel of Charles’ fingers stroking hypnotically across the back of his hand the last thing he remembers.

*

The drive to Bohusk’s party takes them just beyond the suburbs, onto a highway road that weaves in and out of woodland trees.

Irene sits on Raven’s lap, her profile visible from the dash light of Erik’s truck as she tips her head back against Raven’s shoulder. The stream of wind through the rolled down passenger window sending her hair flying.

Charles is grinning at Erik, excitement bubbling up inside him after sneaking out through the window while Kurt and Sharon sat numbly in front of the television.

Erik glances at him, at the flash of his teeth in the dark, and smiles back.

Inside Barnell’s house the music’s too loud, setting Erik’s teeth on edge, bodies packed in like sardines and the air sticky and warm. Erik’s glass sweats heavily, leaving a wet trail across the top of a wooden bookcase as he slides it closer to himself.

Across the living room, in between the sea of people he spots Angel, smiling up at Barnell as he leans over the top of her, her dress gripping tight to her curves, her fingers winding a strand of her hair as she giggles at something Barnell’s just whispered in her ear.

“He’s flirting with her,” Charles snorts at Erik’s side, “the question is will she be dumb enough to take the bait?”

Erik turns his head to look at Charles, raising an eyebrow.

“But all I care about right now is whether or not you’ll dance with me,” Charles says.

“I…yes,” Erik beams.

“Yeah?” Charles smiles back. “Yeah? Good.”

They end up holding each other more than actually dancing, Charles looping his arms around Erik’s neck and laying his head against his shoulder while Erik holds him tight, mouthing everything he wants to say to Charles against his hair, the music drowning out his words.

When the song ends, Charles follows Erik into the kitchen, hot and wanting something to drink, through the open patio doors Armando calls Erik’s name and waves him over and Charles says he’ll be there in a minute, once he finds something besides beer to drink.

Armando is sitting beside the pool with Anna Marie and Hank when Erik makes his way outside, the three of them watching as Alex starts lighting off firecrackers on the other side of the pool, throwing them up into the air where they explode.

Erik’s smiles tensely, all the noise and people starting to get on his nerves. He’s just about to turn and head back to the kitchen when there’s a scuffling behind him and then Hank is protesting, grabbing hold of Erik’s shoulder as he’s pushed past, shoved into the pool, taking Erik along with him.

Erik resurfaces, spluttering and glaring, the two boys that had pushed Hank in fleeing under his angry stare. He helps Hank out, then starts wringing out his sodden clothes, shaking his head irritably and looking back through the kitchen doorway, seeing no sign of Charles anywhere.

He doesn’t know why he let himself be talked into this, he hates parties and now he just wants to find Charles and Raven and ask if they want to leave, maybe get Chinese food or something once Erik’s changed clothes.

He finds Raven sitting at the bottom of the staircase leading upstairs, idly swirling the ice around in her glass.

“Did you get pushed into the pool?” she asks.

Erik nods, “you wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Raven says, “if you want.”

“Where’s Charles?” Erik asks.

“I think he went to the bathroom,” Raven answers.

Erik pushes through a group of people he doesn’t recognize, past a couple making out against the wall, down the hallway, his clothes dripping and leaving a wet trail across the carpet. He pauses outside the closed bathroom door, raising his hand to knock when he hears a small strangled cry that sounds suspiciously like Charles floating out through the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

Tension coils in his gut and he knows he should turn around and walk away but his feet are already carrying him the last few steps to the door, pushing it slowly open.

There’s a long, drawn out moment where Charles doesn’t even notice Erik, his fingers tangling in the mess of Azazel’s dark hair as Azazel sucks his cock, his hands gripping Charles’ butt cheeks. Charles’ bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes screwed shut, his hips jerking back and forth as he fucks Azazel’s face.

Erik hears himself make some pathetically pained sound and Charles’ eyes shoot open. Erik turns on his heel, feeling sick to his stomach as he shoves his way back down the hall.

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles calls after him. “Erik, wait.”

Erik doesn’t slow down, snarling and forcing people to move, throwing open the front door and then slamming it closed. He’s wet and shaking, forcing himself to breathe in deep, the near deafening pulse of the music bleeding away as he puts distance between himself and Barnell’s house, walking quickly back to his truck parked alongside the road.

The music spikes louder for a moment as the front door swings open again, footsteps falling hard against the pavement behind Erik.

“Erik,” Charles pants, “stop.”

Erik wheels around, scouring over Charles with his eyes. Charles’ face and throat are flushed, his voice breathy and he can hardly walk straight, his erection painfully obvious through his pants, and Erik hates him for it.

“Why are you all wet?” Charles asks. “What happened? What's wrong?”

“ _What’s wrong_?” Erik repeats incredulously. “ _Are you serious_?  _You_ … _you’re_ ,  _argh_!”

“I’m  _what_?” Charles asks.

Erik breathes heavily, forcing himself back to a calmness he doesn’t feel. “Just never mind.”

“ _What's wrong_?” Charles repeats.

“ _You_!” Erik says loudly. “You know you fuck every asshole there is and I...I'm...just,  _fuck_.”

“What do you want from me, Erik?” Charles asks then, coming closer.

“Nothing, Charles,” Erik snarls, losing the battle against his own anger, “ _absolutely nothing_.”

“Erik?” Raven asks hesitantly, following them outside. “What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving,” Erik growls, “if you want a ride back, I suggest you get in the goddamn truck.”

Raven looks at Charles in confusion before saying, “ _okay_ , let me grab Irene.”

“Why are you so angry at me?” Charles hisses.

“If you really don’t know, if you’re really _that_ stupid,” Erik spits out, “then I don’t even know what to say to you.”

Charles takes another step closer, his eyes dark, his fingers twitching at his sides, looking at Erik like he’s about to deck him.

Erik turns back around and starts walking again. “Just get in the damn truck,” he says.

The drive back is awkward and silent, Erik’s fingers tapping agitatedly against the steering wheel. This time Charles sits in the passenger seat, glaring out the window, and Raven and Irene sit in the middle, staring straight ahead.

Erik pulls into his own driveway, ordering everyone out. Raven and Irene scramble outside and into the grass, a distance away from the Charles and Erik but Erik knows they’re listening.

“Erik, you’re not my fucking chaperone,” Charles snarls at him in his driveway, “I do not _need_ nor do I _want_ your approval for _anything_ , _anything_ , do you understand that?”

“God, I…I _hate_ you sometimes,” Erik whispers raggedly. Ignoring the pained look that Charles can’t keep from flashing across his face as he turns away, stalking up his porch steps and into his dark, empty house.

*

A heavy weight settling across Erik’s lap makes his eyes fly open, his hands coming up to shove the offending weight off.

“Stop it,” Charles hisses at him in the dark.

Erik swallows a couple times, his voice cracking when he asks, “what are you doing?”

Charles is straddling him, his groin pressed down firmly against Erik’s. The light filtering in from the streetlight outside Erik’s open window letting him see Charles’ face. Charles smiles in a way Erik’s never seen before as he shifts off of Erik, keeping Erik pressed on his back with a palm to his chest as he leans forward.

“This is what you want, right?” Charles whispers hotly against Erik’s temple, and without warning palms his cock through his thin sweatpants, making him yelp.

“ _Charles_ ,” Erik whimpers, squirming against Charles’ hand.

“I have church in the morning so let’s make this quick, yes?” Charles says.

Erik frowns up at him, wanting to tell Charles to go fuck himself, to get out and leave him be but Charles palms him again, squeezing him through the fabric and Erik loses his train of thought and moans.

Charles drags Erik’s pants down to his knees, rubbing his thumb experimentally under the head of Erik’s already hard cock, along the scar from his circumcision and Erik moans again, throwing his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Charles’ eyes flick back to Erik’s face and then he’s moving again, climbing back on top of Erik, straddling his legs, pressing down against Erik’s hip while Erik sucks in a breath, staring up at him with wide eyes as Charles spits into the palm of his other hand and slides it along Erik’s shaft.

Erik chokes out another whimper, his body rippling as he sheds the layers of his control, Charles peeling them away one at a time, leaving him open and raw.

“Tell me what you want,” Charles whispers, teasing Erik with the tip of a finger down the underside of his cock. “What do you want, Erik?”

“I don’t…I’m…please,” Erik babbles.

“I know what you want,” Charles continues, “I know what everyone wants.”

Erik can’t think, there’s words coming out of Charles’ mouth, darker and darker but Charles’ hand is also stroking him again, firm and tight until Erik’s wet with precome, his groin aching from the tension.

“You want to fuck me?”

“Wh-what?” Erik stutters.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Charles whispers savagely, squeezing the base of Erik’s cock before removing his fingers, “you want me, right? So fuck me. It’s alright, I’ll let you fuck me.”

There’s a part of Erik that wants to be angry with Charles, but there’s another part that’s screaming that he should take whatever the hell he can while he can get it. The sober part of him wins, aware of and almost frightened by the dangerous gleam in Charles’ eyes, daring Erik to say yes.

Erik shakes his head and Charles studies him a moment longer before the tight circle of his fingers returns, teasing down the length of Erik’s cock to his balls, until Erik feels like he’s shivering apart, spitting up tiny pathetic sounds he’d be embarrassed by if he were able to focus on anything but the feel of Charles’ hands on him. 

“Is it good?” Charles asks, working a hand beneath him until he’s pressing the tip of a finger against Erik’s perineum, smirking as Erik’s hips jerk.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Erik hisses, “ _I’m… oh, fuck_.”

Charles drags the pad of his thumb along the underside of the head again and Erik’s breathing chokes to a halt in his throat, his balls drawing up tight, his stomach twitching. Charles doesn’t relent, his eyes bright and wild, focused intently on Erik’s face.

“Come on,” Charles pants, “come on.”

It only takes one more slide of Charles’ fingers, one more light press against his perineum and Erik muffles a hoarse cry against his fist, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock pulses in Charles’ hand, spattering his own belly and chest.

Erik’s shaking all over, his heart ready to burst open and his lungs aching from holding his breath, his eyes still clenched shut but as the springs of his mattress squeak, Charles moving again, he forces them open.

Charles is looking at his own hand, stained with Erik’s come, webbing thick and opaque between his fingers. He wipes his hand against Erik’s sheets and Erik’s eyes are suddenly stinging.

It’s the first time anyone has ever laid their hands on him and of all people, it’s Charles, and Charles is the one he wants more than anyone in the world, but Charles might as well be an entire world away for how close to him Erik feels right now.

Charles meets his eyes, looking at Erik like he’s possessed and Erik hates himself for how he feels on the verge of tears, open and exposed under Charles’ stare.

“Was that what you wanted?” Charles asks, and he sounds almost cruel.

“Get out,” Erik begs, “Please, just get out.”

*

All around them the hallway is deserted and Erik clutches his books tighter, his entire body tense, his shoulders slumping forward.

“You look awful,” Irene says carefully.

“I feel awful.”

“Did you sleep at all over the weekend?” she asks.

“No.”

“The two of you need to talk this out, you need to tell him the truth,” she says.

“He has to know already,” Erik says miserably.

“I don’t think he does, or if he does, he doesn’t trust it.”

“God, I just, I feel so bad. I wanted it and I wanted to like it but it was so fucked up.”

Irene makes a sympathetic sound. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“ _Talk to him_ ,” Irene says again, and Erik sighs.

“Lehnsherr, Adler,” Frost says from her desk as they appear together through the door of their chemistry class, marking them both down on her attendance records. “I was afraid you were both late. Take your seats.”

“You weren’t afraid I was late?” Sean says from behind Erik, out of breath from racing down the hall to beat the bell, pushing between him and Irene.

“No,” Frost sighs, narrowing her eyes at him. “I was afraid you were going to be on time.”

“Oh so cold,” Sean whispers. He turns to look at Erik, mouthing the words, _she wants me_.

“Sean,” Frost says sternly, clicking her manicured nails against the surface of her desk, “sit down, please.”

Erik slides down onto a seat, bracketed in by Alex and Irene at the very back of the room. The three of them watching as Sean plants himself at the front, fixating on Frost.

Just behind Sean are Azazel and Janos, Janos leaning over to read something Azazel’s written on a page of his notebook, snickering as he finishes. Azazel gives Janos a preening smile and Erik snaps his pencil in two, glaring hard at the both of them. His muscles tensing, only relaxing again when Irene places her hand over his and squeezes.

His day passes painfully slow as he shuffles groggily from one class to the next, trailing after Irene and Anna Marie as they make their way to the top floor for Munroe’s biology class.

Erik sits as close as he can to the window, drawing absent circles around the outside of his notes, barely listening to Munroe’s lecture about the weather and climate change. Smiling slightly as he turns and finds Munroe has both Irene and Anna Marie’s undivided attention.

Anna Marie had discovered that Munroe was descended from a supposed magical line of African witch-priestesses and ever since then both she and Irene could hardly contain their excitement. The fact that they had also found out from Howlett that Munroe had gone through a punk phase during high school was also particularly entertaining to them.

Erik’s last class of the morning just before he has to take a bus to his auto tech class at the career center is history with Howlett, and as Erik fumbles around in his locker for his book, he curses himself, realizing he’d forgotten to finish his paper.

“What’s wrong?” Anna Marie asks behind him

“I never finished my paper and it’s worth half my grade.”

“See if you can get an extension.”

Logan’s hunched over his desk, scribbling out his signature for Hank’s hall pass when Erik walks in and stands beside him.

“What do you need?” Logan asks as Hank steps aside.

“Um, I was wondering if it were possible for me to get an extension on my paper?” Erik asks.

“You didn’t finish your paper?”

“I’ve had a lot going on,” Erik says.

Logan studies him for a long moment. “Monday morning, on my desk before 1st period,” he says finally.

Erik nods vigorously. “Find your seat,” Logan says.

Erik’s eyelids feel like there’s weights attached to them, dragging them closed. Hank jabs him in the back with a pencil and Erik jerks his eyes back open.

“You were starting to snore,” Hank says quietly.

Erik looks up at Logan and is relieved to find that he hasn’t seemed to notice, facing away from his class while he writes something on the board. At the very head of the class, Anna Marie diligently copies down everything Logan writes into her notebook.

With fifteen minutes left before the bell rings, Erik keeps telling himself he just has to make it through auto tech, then he can go home, crawl back into bed and sleep for a couple hours.

Logan finishes writing just as Munroe’s tall figure appears in the door, tapping lightly on the doorframe to get Logan’s attention.

“I didn’t see you there,” Logan says, setting his marker down.

“Can I have a word?” she asks.

“Of course,” Logan smiles, following her out into the hall, telling his class to copy the notes on the board and that he’ll be right back.

He’s still in the hall when the bell rings and everyone makes for the door, Anna Marie lingering off to the side, waiting for Erik to peel himself up from his seat.

“I’m gonna die,” Erik groans.

“Just two more hours,” Anna Marie says sympathetically.

Out in the hall, as he’s walking away, Erik gets called back by Logan.

“Hey,” Logan says, “I heard you did a real good job on that project for Hector’s class.”

Erik nods tiredly.

“There’s an opening,” Logan says, “at the garage I work at during the summer, they’re looking for someone to work a few hours on the weekend, and maybe over the summer too, just little things, mostly repair work. You interested?”

Erik wakes up a little more, thinking about how run down his mother is and how it would be nice to help her out. It would also likely do him some good to occupy his time and get his mind off Charles.

“Yeah, I’m interested,” he says.

*

“Mama, I got a job,” Erik announces the next morning.

“Doing what?” Edie frowns over her mug.

“My history teacher works on the side at the car garage that Armando’s dad owns and he says I can work there on the weekends. I was thinking I could help out, maybe make things easier around here.”

“Honey, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Erik insists.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, then that’s great,” Edie says, not looking wholly convinced.

Erik nods though as if that settles the matter, taking his breakfast plate along with Edie’s and putting them in the sink, he’s just turned the water on to start rinsing them when Edie asks, “what happened with Charles?” and Erik goes very still.

“What do you mean?”

“He was here earlier asking for you, he seems to think you're upset with him. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Erik says without turning around.

“He looked miserable, he said he needs to talk to you and you aren’t answering your phone.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Erik repeats, “we had an argument, I just need time to cool off.”

“An argument about what?” Edie presses.

“It’s not important,” Erik says.

Edie looks frustrated but she just pushes a hand wearily through her hair and says nothing.

*

Erik’s sitting on the concrete floor of the garage, stained with motor oil and wiping off his hands when he hears Logan yell that he has a visitor.

Looking up he stills as Charles walks in, looking apologetic.

“So this is where you work now?” Charles asks awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “it’s nice.”

“It’s a garage,” Erik says blankly, rising to his feet.

“Yeah,” Charles breathes, and then, “look, Erik, I’m really sorry.”

“You crossed the line,” Erik hisses angrily.

“As I recall you never asked me to stop,” Charles snaps.

Erik throws the rag down, glaring at Charles as he steps closer, grateful that he’s taller than Charles, liking how it makes him feel more intimidating even if it’s only in his head, because he’s fairly certain Charles could take him apart piece by piece if he truly felt like it.

“I don’t want things to get weird between us, okay,” Charles speaks quickly, raking his fingers through the mess of his hair. “I jerked you off, _so what_. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But Erik wants it to mean something and that’s the problem, that’s always been the problem.

*

Erik blinks his eyes open in confusion, the numbers of his alarm clock a blue blur in the dark. It’s past 1:00 AM he notes, sitting up slowly, making out the shapes of his furniture as he tries to find what’s woken him up.

His curtains breathe in and out with the light breeze, the sound of a dog barking continuously somewhere down the street.

He slides to the foot of the bed and then hears the sound of someone moaning, his teeth grinding together the second he realizes it’s Charles. And what did he expect? He slides from his bed, stumbles to his window and stares out.

Charles is on the roof with someone whose face Erik can’t see, Erik’s fingers digging into the windowsill in anger as Charles groans, showy and loud as if he wants to be found out. Erik can see his fingers clawing at the tiles of the roof, another low moan escaping him as his new night visitor’s hand disappears into the shadows between his thighs.

Erik mutters in disgust and throws his window closed with an echoing bang that makes both Charles and his guest jump and stare at Erik through the dark. 


	4. Charles

The echoing reverb of the hymn fills the spaces of the church, sunlight streaming in through the windows, dust raining from the ceiling, sparkling in golden, glowing shafts of light. Charles’ lips are moving, forming words that feel clumsy in his mouth.

He can feel his mother’s whispered prayers beside him, over and over, the cadence of her voice rising and falling as her breath hitches. _Please_ _save my son_ … _save my son_.

They’re seated in the first pew before the altar, Charles wedged between her and Raven, Cain and Kurt on his mother’s other side. The air is overwarm and stuffy, the heavy wooden doors fallen closed, caging everyone in. He clutches his tattered, closed hymn book tightly in his hands, his eyes darting all around, searching for a distraction, something that will take him out of his head even for a moment while he tries to ignore both his mother’s pleading words and Shaw’s sharp gaze.

His heartbeat feels too fast, too erratic inside his chest, his breaths too loud, crashing in his own ears above the sound of the parish joining together in praise. His skin itches and he fidgets, it’s too hot and everything is too close, if he doesn’t get away soon he’s afraid he might start screaming and never stop.

Shaw glides to the podium, raising a hand, calling for silence. Charles looks away from him, knowing what’s coming next. He’s sweating, his hands trembling on his knees as he pulls at the stiff fabric of his pants.

“Brothers and Sisters,” Shaw says, looking out over a hundred faces frozen still in the shifting light and glittering dust, “before we conclude today’s service I’d like to ask you all to please join me in one last prayer.”

The midday sun flares through the stained glass windows, sending shards of color across the room, Charles turns his head to look at Raven and finds her turned gold. He can feel Shaw watching him closely but stays focused on Raven, and when she looks over at him and smiles, soft and feeble, he feels the knot in his chest loosen slightly before Shaw’s voice flows over him once again.

“Sharon Marko has requested that we please pray for her son Charles, who has been feeling lost and is in desperate need of guidance.”

Charles’ gaze flicks away from Raven and back to Shaw, a leaden feeling settling in his gut as Shaw smiles and holds out a hand.

“ _Come_ , _Charles_.”

His mother is staring at him, her lips forming a thin red line and her jaw set firmly. He feels Raven take his hand and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze just before he pushes himself to his feet and walks on wobbly legs to the podium to join Shaw, ignoring the whispers rustling from the front of the parish to the back. _They all know_. Charles scans their faces quickly, ignoring Cain leering at him, pausing briefly when he comes to Janos’ girlfriend. There’s nothing in her face but contempt and for a moment he stops feeling guilty that just two nights ago he had her boyfriend’s dick in his mouth.

Shaw’s hands are clammy when they latch onto his arms, moving Charles to stand in front of the podium as the higher ranking members of the church join them, each laying a hand on Charles in an attempt to heal him.

Sharon and Kurt are the last, standing on either side of Charles, each of them settling a hand on his shoulder. Charles stiffens at the weight of Kurt’s touch, still focused on Raven, watching the colors play across her face. He feels dizzy and nauseous, the strong smell of cologne and perfume mingling together and enfolding him, making him cough.

“Heavenly Father,” Shaw begins and every member of the parish raises a hand, their fingers stretched toward Charles as they bow their heads. All except Raven, who keeps her hands stubbornly folded in her lap, staring up at Charles with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Heavenly Father, we ask that you free this young man from a life of sin. That you change his heart and desires, and wash him clean. That you renew his mind and help him to repent of all homosexual activity.”

Charles uses Raven as an anchor, fixating on her face until everything else around her begins to blur.

“Lord, we ask that you bring Godly people into his life to form fellowship with.”

Shaw steps in front of him, blocking Raven from his sight, staring at Charles like he’s something to possess as he cups Charles’ face gently in his hands, tipping his head back so that Charles has no choice but to look at him.

“Give him a hunger for the Word of God that it might heal and renew his mind. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.”

“ _Amen_.” The parish speaks as one. Shaw smiles at him encouragingly.

Set free back into the daylight and cooler air after the service he follows Raven’s lead back to Kurt’s car, his hand sweating from being held by her so tightly. Once safely in the backseat he leans his head back, and breathes.

*

Erik’s been avoiding him for nearly two weeks. Charles stares across the street at his dark bedroom window from where he’s perched atop the roof, the smoke from his stubbed out cigarette curling in front of his eyes as it climbs higher into the air before dissipating. The night air blows and wraps itself around him and he shivers, hugs his knees tighter to his chest as he tips his head back, his gaze sweeping across the night sky dotted with stars and the thin smile of the moon, half obscured by pale wisps of cloud.

He looks back across at Erik’s window as voices drift up to him from somewhere off in the dark down the street, coming closer. The streetlight at the end of Bishop Street flickers off then on, then off again as two figures materialize out of the dark in the middle of the empty street. A moment later Charles hears Raven’s voice, growing quieter the nearer she gets to their house.

He watches her and Irene dart through the gate of Heritage Drive and into the shadows alongside the house, the two of them standing below him, still unaware that he’s there.

He leans forward quietly and thinks about scaring them. It would serve Raven right, he didn’t even know she had snuck out.

“I had fun tonight,” Raven says to Irene, and Charles smirks.

“Do you feel better now?” Irene asks, sounding a little anxious.

“Yeah,” Raven breathes. “I’m sorry by the way. I didn’t mean to make you worry…I just, sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy and if I don’t get out, if I don’t get _away_ …”

“I know,” Irene says quickly, and then softer, “ _I know_.”

Charles listens to the sound of fabric rustling, to his sister and Irene kissing for a long moment before Erik’s truck comes rattling down the street, the headlights lighting up the side of the house.

Raven and Irene are quiet, watching Erik pull into his driveway. The ignition cuts off, the truck pinging and hissing as Erik climbs out, looking tired, his shoulders slumped forward as he heads up the stairs to the front porch, disappearing through his front door, soft lamplight glowing in the living room window just after he closes the door.

Charles wants to climb down and go to him but holds himself back.

“They’re still avoiding each other,” Raven says suddenly, and Irene sighs.

 _Erik’s in love with you_ , Irene had said to Charles at the pavilion the night after Charles had Janos up in his room. It sounded like an accusation.

 _I know_ , Charles answered.

Irene stared at him long and hard. _You’re in love with him_ , _too_. It was a statement not a question.

Charles nodded.

 _Why then?_ Irene said in exasperation. _Why not tell him? Why do this to yourself?_

Charles hesitated before answering. _We’re friends_ , he said finally, _and I need Erik as a friend a hell of a lot more than I need him as a boyfriend or_ , _or as anything else_.

 _Charles you’re_ in love _with him, and the fact that you guys are friends is a good thing. You_ want _to be friends with the person you’re_ –

 _It would change everything between us_. _And I can’t handle it if it changes_ us, Charles said. _Erik doesn’t expect things from me the way everyone else does_ , _but if we were dating_ –

 _Charles_ …

Charles shook his head. _Something will happen. We’ll break up_ , _only then we won’t even be friends anymore because it’ll be too hard and weird_ … _or if we do stay friends it won’t ever be the same again_.

 _Why do think you’ll break up? You aren’t even giving yourself a chance_.

 _I’ll hurt him_ , Charles said. _I’m always_ … _you don’t understand_. _There’s something wrong with me_.

“Honestly, I think they’re both stupid,” Irene says to Raven.

Charles frowns and watches Erik’s bedroom light up, Erik sinking down on the edge of the bed, looking down at his phone. He looks up suddenly towards Charles’ house and Charles holds himself perfectly still.

“I should get inside,” Raven says.

Erik gets up, moving in front of his window. He pauses, looking out at the night before his gaze seems to settle on Charles, and he pulls the curtains closed. Below him Charles hears Raven and Irene kiss each other again before he hears Raven whisper, “thank you again for tonight.”

“I love you,” Irene says softly.

Charles stares straight ahead at Erik’s closed window, light seeping out around the edges.

“I love you, too,” Raven replies, and Charles closes his eyes.

*

“ _Charles_ ,” Shaw says his name like a plea. “I know how you feel.”

“You do?” Charles asks, sitting on the edge of the couch in the church basement, his fingers digging into the upholstery while he stares past Shaw to the stairs.

“Absolutely,” Shaw says, “I know exactly. You see, I’ve been you. I’ve felt the things you feel. I know how confused you are and how much you need someone who… _understands you_ , to help guide you, to make sense of things for you.”

He steps closer and sinks down on the edge of the couch beside Charles, his hand raising to Charles’ face, his thumb stroking against Charles’ cheekbone.

“Father…” Charles says, feeling a flush spreading over his face.

“When I was younger,” Shaw says, “I too had very disturbing urges.”

Charles nods and leans back, away from Shaw’s touch.

Shaw studies him, his eyes searching Charles' before he says, “tell me about your friend.”

“Friend?”

“That Jewish boy, the one who came in here asking for you.”

“Erik,” Charles says. “I’ve known him since I was little.”

“Do you think about him sexually?”

Charles feels tired, his head already aching as he meets Shaw’s eyes, Shaw waiting expectantly for his answer. Charles could turn himself completely inside out, he realizes, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Shaw. He would always ask for more.

“No, Father.”

“Charles,” Shaw smiles, reaching to stroke his cheek again, “I can’t help you if you lie to me.”

“I don’t,” Charles says, flinching away, “I don’t lie to you.”

Shaw studies him, considering for a moment. “You’re very tense,” he says at length. “Your mother told me you were rather jumpy.”

Charles looks away from him, his gaze falling on the Sunday school blackboard rolled up against the wall.

“She also told me you were prone to making up stories,” Shaw says, the words dropping like stones from his lips.

Charles goes completely still, his heart beginning to pound, a rush of heat starting at the top of his head and plummeting down the length of his body as he takes in what Shaw’s just said and realizes where Shaw’s trying to steer the conversation. He feels like he might be sick.

“She told you…she…”

“She’s expressed a deep concern about you and who could blame her.” Shaw’s touch trails from Charles’ cheek down the curve of his jaw, all Charles’ hairs standing on end as Shaw’s fingers reach his throat.

“I understand there was an incident,” Shaw says softly, “when you were around nine years old.”

Charles’ throat feels like it’s seizing up, his face burning, and his heart stuttering in his chest.

“You accused Kurt of some very troubling things,” Shaw says, looking grim.

Charles shakes his head slowly, opening his mouth to respond but no sound comes out.

“I understand,” Shaw goes on, his fingers still brushing back and forth along Charles’ skin, “that it must have been a lot to take in, being abandoned by your father, and at such a young age.”

“ _My father didn’t abandon me_ ,” Charles says quickly, his anger flaring.

“He committed suicide, Charles,” Shaw says. “And suicide violates the love for oneself and one’s family, and more importantly the love we owe God. It is an outright rejection of God’s – ”

Charles sits up rigidly straight, gripping hold of Shaw’s wrist to wrench his hand away. “ _Shut up_.”

Shaw’s eyes widen in shock. “What did you say?”

“You heard what I said. I’m not listening to this shit anymore.”

“Charles,” Shaw says, “that is very disrespectful. I simply wish to make it clear that I understand where you’re coming from. Those terrible lies you made up about your step-father were coming from a place of grief and anger. You _were_ angry when your mother remarried weren’t you?” Shaw asks, staring at Charles’ lips as Charles licks them repeatedly in agitation before his gaze lifts back to Charles’ eyes.

“I didn’t make it up,” Charles growls out.

“Perhaps you felt guilty. Perhaps you were acting out because you were disturbed by your own urges.”

Charles’ hands fidget restlessly against the couch cushion. The air when he inhales shakily smells like stale crackers and chalk dust. The buzz from the florescent overhead light sounds like it’s getting louder the longer the silence between himself and Shaw continues.

“I’d like to go home now,” he says blankly, his mind beginning the strange, fuzzy disconnect from his body and surroundings where nothing in the room feels real anymore.

Shaw nods slowly but as Charles starts to push himself to his feet, Shaw’s hand lands on his knee and presses him back down into the cushion. When Charles looks at Shaw questioningly, he’s stunned as Shaw quickly wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close for a hug.

“Will you pray, Charles?” Shaw whispers.

Charles pulls back but Shaw only tightens his hold.

“I only want to help you, Charles,” Shaw continues softly. “You know that don’t you?”

Charles makes himself nod but doesn’t answer.

“I pray for myself each and every night,” Shaw admits, “asking for strength.”

“I’ll pray, Father,” Charles says just to be released, his voice still lifeless.

Shaw draws back enough to see his face but doesn’t let go, his hand raising again to Charles’ face. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to hold you,” he says.

“Father?”

“Sometimes I wonder…” Shaw’s fingers skim back down Charles’ skin, his fingers closing a collar around Charles’ throat, his thumb pressing in, making Charles swallow reflexively. Shaw shivers, his lips parting slightly.

“Father, you’re hurting me,” Charles says.

The hand eases and falls away, settling on his shoulder instead. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Charles,” Shaw says, slowly trying to angle Charles and himself back with Charles beneath him, his breath close and hot against Charles’ skin. “You can go home, but for just a moment I want you to lie down with me, I only want to hold you.”

“Get off me,” Charles says, digging his nails hard into the back of Shaw’s hand. “ _Get off_.”

“Now, Charles,” Shaw says pleadingly, “listen to me…”

Charles shoves at Shaw as hard as he can, knocking him backwards. The moment his hands leave Charles, Charles jumps up and bolts across the room and back up the stairs, ignoring Shaw commanding him to return.

Orange light from the sinking sun slants through the windows of the church, lighting up Charles’ path down the aisle to the doors. He shoves them open, blinking his eyes against the light and inhales mouthful after mouthful of cool air. Behind him he hears Shaw’s purposeful footsteps coming after him down the aisle. He lets the doors fall closed behind him, his shaky legs carrying him quickly down the stairs and across the lawn to the street.

He feels lightheaded, his hands trembling at his sides. The sun disappears from the sky, the color fading, washing everything grey and suddenly he’s on Erik’s porch without remembering the walk from the church to the end of Bishop Street.

He knocks, waits, but there’s no answer and after trying again he finally gives up and just lets himself in with his key.

He’s alone and after a glance back outside, he realizes Erik’s truck is gone. His hands are still shaking so he stumbles his way into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face to calm himself, cupping water into his hands and gulping it down quickly until his stomach aches.

When he feels calmer, his heartbeat steadier, he goes into Erik’s room and after digging around for the cigarettes he knows Erik has hidden, sinks onto the bed, chain-smoking the last two from the pack before curling himself up as small as he can. He watches the streetlights outside the window flicker on down the street one by one, and waits.

He must sleep because the next thing he knows he’s being shook awake and the room’s awash in lamplight, the sky outside the window gone dark.

He sits up, Erik’s hand falling away from his shoulder as he sits on the edge of the bed and considers Charles.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Charles looks up at him, his eyes squinting against the light, because there’s a strange edge in Erik’s voice he isn’t used to hearing.

“I fell asleep,” he says dumbly. “I was…” he thinks about explaining but Erik looks tense and not overly happy to see him so he decides against it and instead says, “I just didn’t want to go home yet, and I didn’t know where else to go so I came here.”

Erik nods and looks away from him, getting up from the bed, raking a hand through his hair as he survey his own room, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asks.

“I started filling out scholarship applications today,” Erik says.

“That’s,” Charles struggles, still feeling Shaw’s hands on him as he shivers and rights himself on the edge of the bed, straightening his clothes, “that’s good.”

“No,” Erik says, turning around to face him suddenly.

“No?”

“Even if I manage to get _every_ scholarship I apply for I still can’t afford to go to school.”

“Erik,” Charles says, forcing himself to focus on Erik, to forget Shaw just for a moment, “you’re just stressed out. You’re going to be fine, you’ll be able to go to – ”

“ _No_ ,” Erik rounds on him, “ _I won’t_. I’ve been thinking about this all week. Mama has been struggling trying to make sure I have enough money to go to school and I can’t…I can’t do that to her.”

“Erik, listen to me, it’s going to be fine.”

“When I was at the garage tonight I realized all of the sudden that this is who I am. And no matter what I do, even if I work every single day of my life, I’ll never be, I’ll never have,” he tugs at his hair and looks across the street at Charles’ house then back to Charles himself.

“You’ll never have what?” Charles asks. Erik’s quiet too long and so Charles presses. “You’ll never have what, Erik? What’s this really about?”

“We’re two very different people,” Erik says at last, “and we are heading down two very different roads.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t even have to try, Charles,” Erik snaps. “You can fuck off all you want and at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to worry about paying for school. You don’t have to worry about _anything_.”

Heat floods Charles’ face. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“You fuck off more than anyone I know,” Erik says. “The only thing you actually do care about is when you’re gonna get laid next.”

Charles leaps up from the bed and stalks out of Erik’s bedroom without another word or a glance backward, down the stairs to the front door. Stepping out into the night, feeling sick to his stomach as he moves quickly through the gate of Heritage Drive. He could climb the tree and slip into his own bedroom but there’s no point. He knows Kurt is waiting for him. He takes a shuddery breath and steps through the front door.

Kurt and his mother both are standing in the kitchen as soon as he steps into the room.

“Father Shaw called the house nearly two hours ago,” Kurt snarls, “he says you were tremendously disrespectful tonight, that you started raving like a lunatic, and that you _threatened_ him.”

Charles shakes from head to toe. “Threaten him?” he bites out.

“You threatened him with some ridiculous story about how you would tell everyone he behaved inappropriately towards you.”

Charles feels on the verge of climbing out of his own skin. His mother looks at him horrified, shaking her head.

“You’re so selfish,” she says, her voice raw. “How could you even think of trying such a thing?”

“Get up to your room,” Kurt hisses, “and wait for me while I think of what to do with you.”

Charles climbs the stairs to his room, slamming the door closed and wedging the chair from his desk beneath the doorknob. When he hears Raven on the other side of the door asking to be let in, he ignores her.

He can’t do this anymore, he thinks. Everything is falling apart. _He’s_ falling apart.

With his mind gone hazy and his body on autopilot he throws open his window and crawls out, climbing down the tree and landing with a soft thud in the dewy grass. A careful look through the windows tells him that his mother and Kurt are together in the living room talking heatedly. He turns away and starts walking towards the sidewalk, casting one last look to Erik’s house before heading down the street and into the dark.

He passes one house after the next, staring into the lit up windows and making up stories about the people inside to distract himself. He walks aimlessly to the end of one street and then down another, the streetlights falling away one by one until the only light comes from the high-beams of passing cars. Only then does he slow and consider himself.

He has no idea what he’s doing. There’s nowhere for him to go and the longer he’s alone with his own thoughts the more he feels panicky and afraid. He can’t go to Erik. All his other friends are out of the question, their parents would just send him straight home anyway, and even if they didn’t, he can’t leave Raven. He has no choice. He’ll have to go back.

He comes to a stop on the edge of the road, listening to the sounds of insects in the trees around him, the swish of the wind in the grass, when he’s illuminated suddenly from behind, his shadow stretching far ahead of him across the pavement.

Right at this moment, more than anything, Charles just wants to get out of himself for a while.

The light behind him grows brighter and he hears the sound of tires crunching the pavement, he hears the quiet purr of the engine and feels the heat from the car as it rolls to a stop just behind him. When he finally turns to look, the light hurts his eyes. Stepping around to the driver’s side door, watching as the window rolls down, his eyes focus on a hulking man with bright eyes and a sharp grin.

“Need a ride?” the man asks, his voice low and rumbly, a little rough at the edges, the sound of it tugging at Charles’ insides.

He recognizes the overly friendly look on the man’s face for what it is. He should walk away, he thinks, he wants to lie down and sleep, but he also wants and _needs_ to feel in control of himself and for someone to take him out of his own head even if it’s just for the span of time it takes to make him come.

He matches the man’s smile with one of his own and when he speaks his voice makes him sound more confident than he feels. “A ride would be great.”

The man’s sharp grin widens. “Hop on in.”

It’s warm inside the car and Charles sighs quietly, sinking back into the seat while studying his companion.  

“You have a name?” the man asks, pulling back onto the road.

“Charles.”

“ _Charles_ ,” the man repeats to himself, seeming to savor the name, gruff voice full of promise. Charles feels heat flare in his belly.

“And you?” Charles asks.

“Victor,” the man answers, the white of his teeth visible in the dark as he smiles.


	5. Erik

It’s late and raining on a Saturday night two days after Raven had frantically told Erik that Charles had run away when he hears a small, hesitant knock on the door.

Pushing himself away from the kitchen table he makes his way quickly into the living room, his heart pounding in his chest. His mother’s still at work, there’s no one else it could be.

When he opens the door all his breath leaves him in a relieved whoosh.

Charles is soaked through from the rain, his hair plastered to his face, his skin ashen against the deep purple bruising of his right cheek. When he meets Erik’s eyes, he looks unsure.

Erik pulls him into his arms, hugging him to his chest tightly, dragging him in through the door and into the living room where he pulls him over to the couch.

Charles is shivering, his teeth chattering, and under the light, Erik sees that his bottom lip has been split open recently.

“What happened to you?” Erik asks, his voice tight, his hands shaking as he pulls the crochet afghan from the back of the sofa, carefully wrapping it around Charles’ shoulders.

“Erik,” Charles says, shaking his head, “Erik, I fucked up.”

“Tell me what happened,” Erik says again as calmly as he can. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

“I’m cold,” Charles says, his voice smaller than Erik can ever remember hearing.

“You need to get out of these,” Erik says, tugging gently at Charles’ wet sleeve. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Charles follows him into the bathroom, his face grey under the overhead light and mottled by bruising. He watches silently as Erik turns on the bathtub faucet.

“Wait here,” Erik says, leaving Charles for a moment to grab his soft flannel pajamas from his room. When he returns Charles has sunk down on the edge of the tub and is toeing off his shoes.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Erik as Erik sets the pajamas on the bathroom counter.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Erik says. “ _You scared the shit out of me_ , but it’s okay. Come on.”

“No,” Charles says, as Erik pulls him back to his feet and tugs at his shirt-hem, “I meant I’m sorry about what happened with us. I’m sorry about how I – ”

Erik shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

Charles looks unconvinced but doesn’t say anything else, lifting his arms above his head as Erik pulls up his shirt, peeling it away from his skin.

The bruising continues beneath his clothes and as Erik meets Charles’ eyes, Charles’ cheeks begin to redden.

“What happened to you?” Erik breathes, repeating his question from earlier.

Charles looks down at the where the water’s collecting on the linoleum, dripping from the sodden strands of his hair. “I just…I was walking,” he says.

“You’ve been gone for two days,” Erik points out as Charles undoes his pants. “I was so worried about you.”

Charles looks back up at him. “There was this guy,” he admits, “he pulled up alongside me and asked if I wanted a ride.”

Erik’s mouth twitches, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“He was…he was really…I just felt so angry,” Charles says, shoving down his pants and underwear, steadying himself with a hand on Erik’s shoulder as he steps out of them and into the filling bathtub. “I needed to, Erik,” he says helplessly, “I needed to feel like I was…I can’t explain it.”

“It’s alright,” Erik makes himself say, helping Charles to sink down into the tub.

“Down at the west end of the lake,” Charles says, his voice going strangely flat as he draws up his knees, “there’s these men that meet up at night sometimes for sex. They find each other on the internet and meet up at some – ”

“I get it,” Erik says over Charles, pausing for a moment while he listens to the water gushing from the faucet. “Do you? Do you ever?”

Charles nods, and Erik has to fight not to get angry. “I figured he was like those guys. You know, you see each other and you smile and it’s like an agreement, and you just, you go back to their car and it’s easy. Most of the time you don’t even talk.”

Erik can feel his head starting to ache. “So you and this guy…”

“We didn’t,” Charles says. “I wanted to…at first, but then I changed my mind, and he got so angry.”

Erik goes still, staring at Charles horrified, scanning over the bruising along his arms. “ _Shit_ ,” he breathes.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Charles says quickly.

Erik’s hands clench tight around the rim of the tub, the color draining from his face. “ _It’s not what it looks like_?” he repeats. “ _You got into some strange guy’s car for sex then decided you didn’t want to and he did this to you_ , _and you’re telling me it’s not what it looks like_? Oh, God,” he groans, squeezing his eyes closed, “are you…did he?”

“No,” Charles assures him, reaching to shut off the stream of water, the small room hazy with steam now. “He tried to but I got away before anything happened.”

“We should go to the hospital, Mama – ”

“No,” Charles says quickly.

“We need to call the cops, Charles.”

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles warns, his eyes brightening, “I said no.”

“That fucker was going to _rape_ you. Look at yourself, you look awful.”

Charles stares at him as though he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. “Yeah, and how do you think that conversation will go? With the cops I mean. You just said I got into some strange guy’s car _for sex_. I’m gay. They’re not going to give a shit. They’ll say I asked for it.”

“That’s not what will happen.”

“It is and you know it,” Charles snaps, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Do you have any idea what Kurt would do if he found out?”

“How are you planning to hide this Charles? You’re all bruised up.”

Charles shrugs indifferently. “I used to get into fights all the time, I’ll just tell them I took off for a couple days and got into a fight. They’ll buy that.”

Erik frowns unhappily at the water before looking back up at Charles. “I still don’t understand where you’ve been for the last two days.”

“Angel’s,” Charles answers. “Her dad leaves her alone a lot.”

“You’ve been staying at that shitty, roach infested motel behind the cemetery?”

Charles nods.

“ _Angel knew and she never said anything_. _Raven’s been going crazy_.” Erik shakes his head and turns, muttering under his breath as he pulls a washcloth from the cabinet beside the sink and grabs the bar of soap off the ledge. “I still think we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Charles insists, watching Erik’s hands, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

Erik sighs heavily, dropping to his knees beside the tub, wetting the cloth in the water and lathering the soap. Charles flinches at the first touch but relaxes gradually as Erik continues, his hands steady and warm, carefully dragging the cloth up the ridges of Charles’ spine. He frowns to himself, not remembering Charles being quite so thin.

He listens to the water dripping from the faucet, his eyes following his hands as he gently washes Charles’ skin.

Charles shivers, huddling in on himself and burying his face against his knees, small sounds that make his shoulders hitch escaping him every so often.

Erik doesn’t speak, continuing in silence until Charles finally shifts under his hands and takes over the task for himself. He avoids Erik’s eyes, his face red and his knees still drawn.

When he’s finished and Erik gives him his hand, helping him to stand, Charles is hard.

“Sorry,” Charles whispers faintly.

Erik looks away. “Don’t worry about it. Here,” he says, handing Charles a towel.

“I should call Raven,” Erik says once Charles is dressed. He leads Charles from the bathroom to his bedroom, standing in the doorway, watching as Charles sinks down on the edge of his bed, unable to ignore how worn out Charles looks, deep circles beneath his eyes, his shoulders tense despite his hot bath, as if he hadn’t slept at all while camping out in the dingy motel Angel lives in with her father. He likely hasn’t eaten either, Erik thinks.

“I’ll call her,” Charles says, “but I don’t want to go back yet, I mean if you…”

“Stay,” Erik says. “I want you to stay.”

Charles smiles for what seems like the first time in weeks, drawing his legs up onto the bed.

“You can sleep if you want,” Erik says. “I was going to make myself dinner. Mama left a casserole in the fridge. You want some?”

Charles smiles again and nods. “Yeah, thank you.”

Erik nods and backs away from the door, getting two steps away before Charles says, “Erik, don’t call your mum, okay?”

Erik stares straight ahead and doesn’t turn around. “Okay,” he agrees finally before slowly descending the stairs.

When he returns, casserole heated from the oven, Charles is asleep, curled into a ball under Erik’s quilt.

“Hey,” Erik says, gently shaking his shoulder. “Charles?” He runs a hand through Charles’ hair, watching as Charles’ eyes slowly blink open, focusing on the bowl he has in his hand.

“Think you can eat this for me?” Erik asks.

Charles sits up and scoots himself back against the headboard as Erik joins him on the bed, handing Charles his bowl. Erik flicks through the channels of his TV, only half paying attention to what’s on while he watches Charles eat out of the corner of his eye.

When they both finish, Erik holds still as Charles hesitantly bridges the gap between them, curling around him. Erik responds by drawing Charles in closer, breathing in the smell of his hair with a sigh.

He reaches for the bedside lamp, turning it off but leaving on the TV, staring up at the ceiling while carding gently through Charles’ damp hair.

“I’m really sorry about what I said to you,” he admits to the ceiling.

Charles makes a sound and turns, nuzzling himself closer. “S’okay.”

“No, I’m,” Erik says, “I mean it. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was…”

“Erik,” Charles’ voice is a warm sigh against his collarbone. “I’m tired.”

Erik nods even though Charles can’t see the gesture, holding him tighter as he grows heavier and loose-limbed at Erik’s side. Erik stares blankly at his TV until his eyes feel too heavy to keep open anymore, Charles’ warmth and deep breathing finally lulling him into sleep.

*

“So Shaw has a thing for boys?” Alex asks the next day at the pavilion, leaning back against Armando as the other comes up behind him and runs strong fingers through his hair.

Erik nods dejectedly. “He told Charles he used to have _disturbing urges_.”

“ _Sick_ ,” Sean says beside him, looking up from his homework.

“Why doesn’t Charles tell anyone?” Armando asks.

“He says no one will believe him,” Erik answers.

“He should record Shaw on his phone or something,” Alex suggests.

“Raven’s really worried,” Irene says, “she says Charles has been acting really strange.”

“I could read his cards,” Anna Marie offers softly, looking between them.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Alex mutters, shaking his head. “Your hippie crap is not going to help right now.”

“ _It’s not crap_ ,” Anna Marie argues.

“Come on, guys,” Sean says.

“It could reveal important insight into Charles’ future,” Anna Marie says hotly.

“We don’t need a bunch of useless cards or astrology charts or whatever the fuck else to know Shaw’s a pervert and if Charles keeps having to spend _special alone time_ with him it’s going to end bad,” Alex says.

“Enough,” Erik snaps, and everyone goes quiet. “Charles doesn’t have a phone anymore. He left it home the night he took off and isn’t allowed to have it back.”

“Then we loan him one of ours,” Sean says.

“You think Shaw’s just going to let Charles record him on a phone?” Armando asks disbelievingly.

Erik rubs at his temples, looking up suddenly as a group of middle-schoolers goes laughing past the pavilion on their way down to the lake.

“Do you think he’ll try something again after Charles ran off like that?” Irene asks.

Erik sighs, “I don’t want him to get another chance.”

“Sharon and Kurt aren’t going to listen unless there’s proof,” Irene says, “so what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Erik says tiredly. “But I have to think of something.”

*

Erik can hear frogs singing in the trees around them, the wind tinkling the wind-chimes hanging from his neighbor’s porch. He glances down at his watch, squinting his eyes to see the time, seeing that he has about an hour before his mother comes home from her short shift. Beside him on the roof Charles flexes his feet against the tar shingles and one goes sliding off to the ground below.

“Did you finish with your scholarship applications?” Charles asks quietly, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Yeah,” Erik says, staring off down the street. “But after talking it over with Mama I think I’m going to see about doing my first year at community college, I can transfer my credits, it’s cheaper that way and I can keep working at the garage.”

“I don’t think I’m going to college,” Charles says.

Erik looks over at him. “You’re brilliant though, at least you could be if you actually tried once in a while.”

Charles smiles faintly. “Thanks. I think. But I have no idea what I’d go for.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Erik says, reaching to brush away the stray strands of hair from Charles’ face blown by the wind. “You’re smart.”

Charles stays perfectly still until Erik lowers his hand from his face. “When you said we were going down different roads…”

“I was just angry,” Erik says. “I didn’t mean that I don’t want to be around you.”

Charles nods, taking another drag off his cigarette when Cain’s bulky shape comes lumbering outside across the street. They watch him climb into his car, Charles snorting as he noisily revs the engine before pulling out and speeding off down the street.

Erik smiles, turning his head to look at Charles when Charles suddenly leans so close to his face that for a second he’s sure Charles will kiss him.

Instead Charles asks, “you wanna go somewhere with me?”

Erik swallows. “Yes.”

Charles smiles, holding his cigarette between his lips as he crawls back in through Erik’s window, Erik following a moment later, trailing after Charles as he heads back downstairs and out through the front door.

Once out on the sidewalk Erik asks, “where are we going?”

“Pavilion,” Charles answers with a smile. “Come on.”

Charles finishes his cigarette only to light another, the orange glow of it bouncing along in the dark beside Erik as together they find the sidewalk and follow it into North Shore Park.

Despite it being a nice night, the air sweet and slightly warm, the park is deserted as they pass through on their way to the darkened pavilion.

When they reach it, Charles climbing up onto a picnic table, Erik looks out at the lights wavering on the water, emanating from the lit windows of the houses on the opposite shore.

“You know,” Charles says, leaning back to stare up at the rafters of the pavilion consideringly, “my mum expects me back with Shaw on Monday.”

Erik bristles, dropping on the bench beside Charles’ feet, still looking out at the lake. “You can’t. What if he tries something again?”

“Dunno,” Charles shrugs.

“I can’t believe he called your house and told them you threatened him.”

Charles huffs a humorless laugh. “Mum told him I have a tendency to make shit up. I guess he thought he’d use that to his advantage.”

“What did your mom not believe you about when you were little?” Erik asks. “I don’t remember you ever saying anything about Kurt.”

Charles looks down at him, the light off the lake reflecting in the dark of his eyes. “I never told you anything about it,” he says simply.

“Tell me about it now,” Erik says.

“Okay,” Charles says, staring back up at the rafters, “uh, shortly after Mum and Kurt got married, Kurt started coming up into my room at night after everyone else was asleep.”

Erik freezes. Charles sounds so indifferent, so casual, it makes his stomach churn. “What?” he mouths the word but his voice has shriveled to a whisper.

“You can use your imagination for what,” Charles says.

“ _Charles_.”

“He would be so nice to me after too, he was always buying me shit. Man that pissed Cain off. Mum didn’t believe me when I told her. But after that Kurt stopped being nice.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I did,” Charles snaps, his eyes flashing as he stares back down at Erik. “Weren’t you listening?”

Erik flinches. “Someone else I mean. Anyone. _Me_.”

“What the hell were you gonna do, Erik?” Charles asks. “You were just a little kid…and besides,  _I didn’t want you to know_.”

“But you,” Erik struggles for words, uncomprehending how this could have been happening to Charles right across the street and he never knew. “I would have told Mama. She would have done something.”

“And then what?” Charles asks, getting to his feet, jumping down from the bench and walking over to one of the trashcans. “What do you think would have happened then? You think anyone was going to bother doing anything about it?”

“ _Charles_.”

“Do you know what I hate about living here?” Charles asks.

Erik doesn’t answer, still reeling from Charles’ confession, watching as Charles pulls his lighter back out, spinning the wheel so that the flame comes to life in the dark.

“Everything has to be _so_ perfect all the time,” Charles says, holding the flame to the wadded up paper bursting over the rim of the trashcan, smiling as after a moment a fast food bag ignites. “And it’s _so_ _fucking fake_.”

“What are you doing?” Erik asks, watching the flame devour the bag and begin to spread.

“I’m setting the trash on fire. I rather thought it was obvious.”

Erik gets to his feet. “Why?”

Charles doesn’t answer, watching as the fire consumes the trash, the flames leaping up towards the rafters of the pavilion.

Erik looks around at the houses. Surely someone can see this, he thinks dizzily, someone will call the cops. They need to go.

“It’d be a shame if the pavilion burned down wouldn’t it?” Charles asks. “There’d be this ugly, charred mess in plain sight of all these perfect houses.”

The firelight stretches across the lake, the whole of the pavilion lit up, at any moment Erik fears one of the dry beams of the rafters will catch. Smoke billows out around them and in the light of the dancing flames Charles’ pale, bruised face is twisted by a combination of anger and glee.

“We need to go,” Erik says, starting to panic, grabbing at Charles’ hand. “Charles, we need to go.”

They sprint through the grass and along the path that leads back to the sidewalk, Erik looking every direction, expecting to hear a voice call out for them at any moment, ordering them to stop.

He’s panting by the time they reach the safety of his front porch, Charles howling with laughter at his side.

“Fuck,” Erik breathes, “oh, fuck.” In the distance he can hear sirens.

“Look,” Charles says, practically vibrating at Erik’s side, “look, you can see the smoke from here.”

Erik turns and sure enough a black cloud of smoke can be seen rising into the night air.

“Are you insane?” he snaps. “We need to get inside. _Mama’s home_ … _what the fuck_ , _Charles_?”

“Relax,” Charles says, “come on.”

Erik blinks in the light of the living room, terrified his mother will smell the smoke and burnt garbage on him.

“Erik?” She calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Erik answers, frowning at Charles.

Charles grins innocently in response and walks ahead of Erik into the kitchen.

Erik stands where he is for a long moment, listening to his mother greet Charles happily, at least until she turns around from the cupboard and notices the bruising on his face.

“What on earth happened to you?” she fusses, making Charles stand under the light while she inspects his face.

“I sort of got into a fight,” Charles answers sheepishly.

“Sort of?” Edie frowns and shakes her head, releasing him.

Erik listens to the sound of sirens wailing past the house, his mother wondering suddenly what was going on.

“Something’s burning in the park,” Charles answers, sounding grave, and Erik finally gathers himself and joins them in the kitchen. “You can see the smoke from the porch,” Charles says.

“Oh, my,” Edie says. “I hope it doesn’t spread.”

Erik busies himself with gathering plates for the Chinese food cartons his mother’s set down on the table.

“Charles, do you want to stay for dinner?” Erik hears his mother ask behind him.

“I’d like that,” Charles answers. “Thank you.”

Erik pushes his food around on his plate as they sit down, feeling ill over what he’s learned about Kurt, unable to fathom how Charles could sit there, talking and laughing with his mother like everything was fine. He’s also half afraid that a police officer’s going to come knocking on the door looking for him and Charles but no knock ever comes.

He notices how his mother keeps subtly trying to get Charles to eat more, and how she keeps scanning over his bruised face with critical eyes, as though she doesn’t quite believe his story.

After dinner, Erik hurries up to his room, Charles ambling along after him.

“Erik, relax,” Charles says once he closes the door, “you didn’t do anything wrong, I did. And I’m sure they’ve put the trash out by now, it’s fine.”

“Never do that again,” Erik says, watching Charles wander over to his old stereo.

“I’m sorry,” Charles laughs, turning the dials of the stereo until he finds a radio station he likes, a song Erik can’t hear the words to pouring softly through the speakers.

“You scare me sometimes,” Erik says, “you know that?”

“I scare myself sometimes, too,” Charles says with a smile but the words hold a seriousness Erik doesn’t want to think about. “I’m sorry I freaked you out, okay?” He comes closer to Erik, stopping when he’s standing right at Erik’s toes.

Erik looks down into his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

Charles snorts.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

Erik cringes. “ _You can’t go back to that house_.”

“I’m too old for him now,” Charles says.

Erik feels like getting sick, watching Charles’ lips curve upward into a sad smile as the song ends and another begins to crackle through the speakers.

“Dance with me?” Charles asks softly.

“We need to talk about this,” Erik says.

“No, Erik,” Charles says, “we don’t. Please don’t ask me to.”

Erik wants to push but Charles is wrapping his arms around Erik’s waist, pressing himself close to Erik’s chest. Erik knows it’s meant to be a distraction, for himself and Charles both.

Tentatively he wraps his own arms around Charles, letting Charles gently sway them. He presses a kiss to the top of Charles’ head, closing his eyes and tightening his hold on Charles.

“I love you,” he says helplessly, because he can think of nothing else to say. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was eight years old.”

Charles laughs softly, turning his head to rest against Erik’s shoulder.

“Run away with me,” Erik breathes, suddenly desperate to take Charles away.

Charles laughs again. “Where would we go?”

Erik swallows. “Anywhere you want.”

“ _Anywhere_?” Charles smiles.

Erik stills, his hands splaying out flat against the small of Charles’ back. “I mean it. I’ve got a full tank of gas and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Charles reaches up, threading his fingers into Erik’ hair, scratching gently at his scalp, smiling faintly as Erik lowers his head, nuzzling against the side of Charles’ neck. “I did always want to go swimming in the Pacific Ocean,” he says softly.

Erik nods.

“And Raven keeps talking about California. You will bring my sister, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Erik murmurs.

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles says, tugging lightly at his hair. Erik raises his head, meeting Charles’ eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Erik’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open to answer but his words fail and instead he nods, his heart suddenly too fast in his chest, his hands still splayed against Charles’ back.

Charles licks his lips, hesitating a moment before slowly closing the space between them. He’s gentle in a way Erik hadn’t expected, a contrast to everything he’s seen through the lens of his telescope the past several weeks, and despite the fact that Charles’ lips are chapped and Erik can taste nicotine and the remainder of their dinner on his tongue, the kiss still makes the world go fuzzy and soft, forcing everything that is terrible to fade into the background.

Charles pulls back a moment later, his eyes still closed as he exhales against Erik’s face. “I do love you, Erik. I want you to know that.”

Looking back, Erik realizes he should have seen what happened next coming from a mile away.


	6. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: attempted suicide
> 
> (sorry this update’s late, I moved house recently and it's taken me longer than expected to get myself sorted.)

Charles brings his cup of juice to his lips, an unidentifiable mixture of berries that tastes sweet and slightly tangy on his tongue. In the empty, silent kitchen the clock above the kitchen sink ticking away the seconds sounds louder than usual. He stares up at it and swallows down another mouthful of juice.

He’d gone to school with Raven, faking an illness halfway through his social studies class. Sister Eliza had looked at him worriedly, his face was still bruised and he looked paler than normal, saying that maybe it would be best if he went home for the day. His homework, she said, would be sent home with his sister. He has hours before anyone comes home.

He sets his cup down on the counter, staring through the window for a long moment, watching his next-door neighbor mow his lawn, noticing that above his neighbor’s head there’s a cloud of midges swarming together and gleaming in the sunlight.

He pays attention to the rise and fall of his own chest, and feels how his heart is beating a little faster than normal. His school uniform feels confining and stiff, itching around the collar, and so he takes it off, stripping away his tie first, dropping it to the floor. The rest of his clothing quickly follows, puddling at his feet until he’s completely naked.

The hard floor is cold against his bare feet, and he shivers slightly, goosebumps raising on his arms that he glides his fingers against slowly before making his way into the living room. He pads across the plush carpet, digging his toes into it as he heads towards his mother’s bedroom.

He pauses just past the doorway, staring for a moment at the made-up bed before his own reflection in his mother’s vanity mirror catches his attention. He glances at himself, at the bruising Victor left scattered over his skin, before he finally looks away.

He walks through the room and into the master bath, closing the door and flicking on the light. The tiled floor is colder here than in the kitchen, the large Jacuzzi tub his mother had insisted on having extends outward from the far wall. Charles makes his way to it and turns on the faucet, running his fingers beneath the stream until it feels hot enough to his liking.

He moves to the sink, grabbing the razor Kurt’s left on the counter, remembering how Kurt had once told Cain that shaving razors were superior to electric, they provided a closer shave.

Charles sets to work on freeing the blades, glancing up at his face in the bathroom mirror before turning back to the tub.

He shudders as he steps in and sinks down into the water, leaning back with a sigh, resting his head against the rim as he turns the blade over in his hands, the light from the overhead glinting off its surface.

He thinks about Raven and despite how he knows this will hurt her, he knows she has Irene, and Irene will take care of her.

He brings the blade to his left wrist, biting his lip as he drags the blade through the skin, heat blooming beneath the cold steel, painful and stinging.

Kurt always told him he was his father’s son, and he was absolutely right, Charles thinks, taking the blade in his shaking left hand and repeating the motion to his right. Dropping the blade over the rim of the tub to the floor with a clatter as he finishes. When Brian took his own life he’d left a mess to clean up behind. Charles is doing the same.

The water creates a moving pattern on the ceiling, Charles staring up at it as he thinks of Erik. Erik, who was loyal to a fault. When Charles had told Irene he would hurt Erik he was telling the truth. He closes his eyes, blocking out the sight of the red bathwater.

Downstairs he thinks he hears the sound of a door open and close but after listening hard he hears only silence and decides he’s imagined it. He frowns and stretches out his legs in the hot water, making a small, pained sound as he feels his heartbeat speed up. The gallop of it sounds like footsteps, like knocking.

“Hello?” he hears a voice call. It takes him a moment to realize it’s Cain.

He opens his eyes sluggishly and strains to focus on Cain stepping into the room, freezing just past the door as he takes in the sight of Charles bleeding out in the tub.

Charles lolls his head back against the porcelain, smiling as Cain runs from the room.


	7. Erik

All through the night Erik dreamed of ash and glowing sparks drifting up around Charles in the dark as the pavilion burnt and fell in on itself. Shortly after arriving at school the next morning he discovered that in reality the fire department had extinguished the burning garbage not long after he and Charles made it back to his house. The only lasting damage done to the pavilion being its now blackened rafters. Sean talked of nothing else, wondering who would try and burn down their favorite gathering spot.

Driving home from school, Erik smiles to himself and rolls his window down, letting in the breeze, the rush of the wind drowning out the sound of his radio. He had dreamed of the pavilion burning but each time he jolted upright in bed it wasn’t because of the spreading flames but because of Charles’ lips pressing gently against his own. While his friends could talk of nothing but the pavilion, Erik had thought of nothing but Charles’ kiss, and the soft way he had looked at Erik after.

He wonders what it means for the two of them now, if this means that Charles will stop inviting everyone Erik hates up into his room at night.

He considers everyone who’s ever put their hands on Charles. He thinks of Kurt and his hatred expands, swallowing him up, until he’s plotting revenge against him. Against Shaw. Against everyone who’s ever touched Charles. Charles had laughed at him last night when he’d told him.

He doesn’t want anyone else to touch Charles. He hates everyone who already has. Deep down he knows that’s ridiculous and selfish. Deep down, he doesn’t care.

He slows his truck to a crawl as he approaches his house, catching sight of the police cruiser parked in Charles’ driveway across the street. _Someone saw him and Charles last night_ , he thinks in a panic. _Someone saw Charles trying to set fire to the pavilion_.

He pulls into his driveway, looking at the police cruiser through his rearview mirror. At the house next door, the Markos’ neighbors, a stout, balding man and his rail-thin wife, are sitting on their porch, staring at the Markos’ house. There’s a lawn mower sitting close to the fence, stopped right in the middle of cutting the grass.

Erik kills the ignition and climbs out, hauling out his bag, and making his way quickly inside where he watches from the living room. He notices Cain’s car parked in the open garage but doesn’t see Sharon’s or Kurt’s.

Several minutes pass before the officer appears through the front door followed by Cain. No one else appears. The officer pats Cain on the shoulder and leaves.

Once the police cruiser has disappeared from sight Erik steps back outside, striding after Cain who’s drifted back to the front door. Cain meets his eyes as he approaches, his pink face oddly pale, his stubby fingers plucking anxiously at his watch. He looks terribly young, not at all smug like how Erik’s so used to seeing him.

“Hey,” Erik says conversationally. It feels strange, he and Cain have never really spoken to each other before.

Cain’s mouth twitches in acknowledgment. Erik feels nervous and ill but he doesn’t know why.

“What was that all about?” he asks, smiling awkwardly, too strained, too many teeth.

Cain stares at him then glances over where the neighbors had been sitting on their porch moments before. They’ve vanished inside since the police cruiser left.

“Charles tried killing himself,” he says suddenly.

Erik shakes his head because that doesn’t make sense. He’s misheard.

“What?”

“I skipped school,” Cain tells him, his words hushed like he’s afraid of being too loud. “I came home and I found Charles’ clothes piled on the kitchen floor. I could hear water running. I thought he’d skipped too. I wanted to scare him. He was in Dad’s bathroom. In the tub. He slit his own wrists.”

 _Charles wouldn’t_ , Erik thinks angrily. _Charles had kissed him last night_.

“He smiled at me,” Cain says, slowly shaking his head. “I called 911. He smiled all the way to the ambulance. There was a lot of blood.”

 _I do love you_ , _Erik_. _I want you to know that_.

In one night Charles had tried to burn the pavilion, he’d made Erik dance with him, he’d kissed him, he’d told Erik he loved him.

“I don’t want to go back inside,” Cain admits quietly.

Erik curses himself all the way to the hospital for ever thinking that any of the things Charles had done last night were romantic. Charles, Erik bitterly realizes, was only telling him goodbye.

*

Erik finally finds the right floor, his pulse hammering as he nears Charles’ room. Before he can reach it however, his mother catches him, gripping him with surprising force by his shoulders until he stops and meets her eyes.

“He’s going to be fine,” she tells him quickly. “Sharon and Raven are with him right now, you come with me.”

Erik stares off toward Charles’ room, 304, then back to his mother.

“ _Now_ ,” she says.

Erik follows her to an empty room and immediately begins to pace back and forth.

“He’s going to be fine,” Edie repeats. “He lost a lot of blood, but he is going to be fine. You just need to wait.”

Erik doesn’t answer her, though his posture relaxes somewhat after learning Charles will be okay. He still needs to see for himself though.

“Erik,” Edie begins.

“I’m gay,” Erik blurts out, stopping suddenly in his tracks to face her. He doesn’t care anymore who knows.

“Okay,” Edie says gently. “That’s okay.”

“So is Charles.”

“I know,” she says.

“I love him,” Erik admits, his voice cracking.

His mother looks sad and old. She reaches for him and he lets himself be pulled into her arms, burying his face against her shoulder.

He finally gets to see Charles after Sharon leaves with Raven. Kurt doesn’t show up at all.

When Erik enters Charles’ room, Charles is asleep, his face ashen but relaxed. Erik quietly scoots a chair close to his bed, staring down at him for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers hover above Charles’ hand, not quite touching the bandages covering his wrist. It’s quiet in the room, the only sound the soft in and out puff of Charles’ breathing. Erik’s fingers finally make contact with Charles’ cool skin, gliding gently across the back of his limp hand. He says Charles’ name once, too quiet to be heard.

*

Erik tells his mother everything Charles had told him about Kurt and about Shaw that night while the two of them try and force down a late dinner together in the kitchen. When he finishes his mother looks grim and he imagines he looks the same, rising to his feet to discard their paper plates and the food they’d left mostly untouched in the trash.

He doesn’t sleep that night, instead he lies in the dark, watching the headlights of passing cars cross over his walls.

*

He still goes to school in the morning despite wanting to do nothing else besides visit Charles. Irene looks every bit as terrible as he does, following after him listlessly as he leads the way to their morning chemistry class.

He sits in his usual spot between her and Alex, Sean taking a seat in front of them. As soon as they get the chance both Alex and Sean bombard him with questions, wanting to know what had happened. Why had Charles tried to kill himself? There’s a dozen things Erik might say, but he isn’t sure himself. He wonders if Charles even knows the answer.

His classes pass in a fog until he reaches his last class of the day with Logan and finally lays his head down on his desk. He expects Logan to tell him to sit up, to pay attention, but he doesn’t.

When he makes it home he finds that his mother has filed a report against both Kurt and Father Shaw.

*

Charles needed twenty-four stitches in each wrist after completely severing the artery of his left and leaving a deep gash in his right.

He’s awake when Erik visits him the next afternoon, leaning against his pillow, talking quietly with Erik’s mother while looking down at Raven slumped over, asleep in her chair, her head resting on his bed.

As Erik steps into the room, Edie steps out. Erik watches her go before looking back at Charles.

“What were the two of you talking about?” he asks.

Charles looks up at him. “She said I could stay at your house. That Raven and I both could.”

Erik nods slowly, his eyes dropping to the blanket thrown over Charles’ lap. He avoids looking at Charles’ wrists.

“After I get out of here anyway,” Charles continues. “I’m being kept under surveillance for the week.”

Erik knows Charles is going to be psychiatrically evaluated, that the surveillance is to be sure Charles doesn’t intend to repeat his actions.

“Why?” he asks at last, meeting Charles’ eyes. “Why did you do it?”

Charles exhales. “I’m tired, Erik.”

Erik feels angry but he isn’t sure where to direct that anger. He searches Charles’ face. Charles is still paler than usual, the bruise standing out starkly on his right cheek, but for the most part he looks no different than he did before.

“You want me to go?” Erik asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice, at how pleading he sounds.

“No,” Charles says. “I want you to come here.”

Erik makes his way slowly to the foot of Charles’ bed, sinking down at Charles’ feet. He shouldn’t push. Charles obviously has more problems than he knows, but no matter how much he tells himself that he can’t help feeling betrayed.

“Erik,” Charles says softly to make him look up.

Erik can see the outline of Charles’ legs beneath the blanket, and he carefully lays his hand over Charles’ left ankle, slowly closing his fingers around it, holding it gently.

“Why would you?” is all Erik can get out before he chokes off into silence.

Charles looks back down at Raven as she begins to stir. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I made a mistake.”

Erik knows he can’t push, getting angry and demanding to know why would help nothing. It would only make Charles feel worse.

“You scared me,” he lets himself say, turning on the bed. He stares at Charles, hesitating for a moment before crumpling forward onto Charles’ lap.

Raven sits up on Charles’ other side as Erik hides his face against Charles’ leg, biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the sudden flow of tears.

Above him, Charles makes a soft sound. Erik’s fingers twist in the blanket, digging into Charles.

“It’s okay,” Charles murmurs soothingly. “It’s okay.”

Erik barks a laugh that’s wet with tears. He should be comforting Charles, he thinks, instead he can do nothing but cling to him, gripping him tighter and tighter as if by doing so he can keep Charles from coming apart, from slipping away and leaving him all alone.

*

Charles is released from the hospital in the middle of a thunderstorm a week after being admitted. Edie had made a sweep of the house the day before, securing anything that Charles might use to harm himself. She pinned emergency numbers to the fridge and told Erik to make sure he listens to anything Charles wants to tell him. Recovery, she said, is going to take time, and the most important thing now is making sure Charles feels safe.

“The cops took a statement from me,” Charles tells him on the drive home from the hospital. He stares out the window, watching the rain roll down the glass. “After your mum made that report. Nothing will come of it though.”

“Why do you say that?” Raven asks gently, but Charles doesn’t respond.

Later that night Erik looks out his bedroom window, a flash of lightning illuminating the Markos’ house across the street.

“What did they say to you when you told them you weren’t coming home?” he asks quietly. He hears Charles moving around on the bed behind him.

“I haven’t seen Kurt at all,” Charles answers. “Mum’s pissed though.” He chuckles humorlessly before adding, “she thinks this is some kind of stunt to get attention.”

Erik turns, glancing at Charles to make sure he’s situated before reaching for the overhead light, throwing the room into darkness.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah,” Charles answers. “I wouldn’t have expected anything different from her.”

“Cain’s upset,” Erik says. “He was really worried when I talked to him.”

“Strange,” Charles says. “I always figured he’d be happy to get rid of me.”

“Charles,” Erik says, shifting around on the bed until he’s facing Charles. He can’t make out his face, only his silhouette in the dark. “Just because your family doesn’t…” he pauses, rethinking his words. “You have people who care about you,” he says at last.

“I know,” Charles says.

“ _I_ care about you,” Erik says.

“ _I know_ ,” Charles repeats, quieter this time.

Erik sighs, lying down on his side. He listens to Charles breathe, and to the rain outside, closing his eyes. He’s nearly asleep when he feels Charles inch closer, fitting himself to Erik, sealing the little bits of space between them.

In the days after, both Erik and Raven make sure Charles takes the mood stabilizers prescribed to him like he’s supposed to. He’s scheduled for therapy once a week even though he insists he doesn’t need it. When the question of why Charles had tried to end his own life resurfaces, he still doesn’t know the answer. His therapist tells him it may take some time to sort out his feelings, and that that’s okay, it’s normal.

When he feels ready, Charles returns to school with Raven, the long sleeves of his uniform jacket covering his stitched up wrists. The afternoon when Erik picks him and Raven up after Charles’ first day back, Charles is grinning, Raven hanging on to one of his arms, looking relieved.

“What’s going on?” Erik asks.

“An officer came to see us at school today,” Raven says.

“Pulled us into the office,” Charles adds.

“It turns out there was some illegal stuff on Kurt’s computer and he was arrested,” Raven says.

That night Charles watches his own house through Erik’s telescope, trying to catch a glimpse of his mother in one of the windows.

*

Once word spreads of Father Shaw, something Irene had a hand in, others come forward making claims against him. Erik hears about Shaw getting removed from the church for the allegations of his inappropriate behavior from Armando one night while working at the garage. He tells Charles as soon as he gets home, but instead of being relieved like Erik had expected, Charles just looks frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asks.

“Nothing,” Charles says, throwing himself down on Erik’s bed. “I’m fine.”

“No, come on,” Erik says. “What is it?”

“My wrist hurts when I jerk off,” Charles deadpans, his head lolling over the edge of the mattress, “you want to help me with that?”

Erik pales.

“I’m kidding, Erik,” Charles sighs. “Relax.”

Erik can’t relax, he’s spent too many nights now listening to Charles masturbate in the shower, imagining his cock swollen pink in the hot steam as he strokes himself. For Charles to casually throw those words out now makes him wonder if Charles doesn’t know. He seems to know everything else about Erik.

“I was thinking about my mum,” Charles says, truthfully this time, staring up at him. “She hasn’t come to see me since that day in the hospital.”

Erik settles on the bed beside Charles, and doesn’t say anything.

“You’d think that after her husband was arrested for the shit they found on his computer she’d feel a little guilty for accusing her son of being a liar,” Charles says bitterly. “She did the same thing with Shaw, she didn’t believe a word I said.”

“Everyone knows you were telling the truth now,” Erik says quietly.

“She doesn’t love me, Erik,” Charles says. “My own mother doesn’t love me.”

“I love you,” Erik says. “Raven loves you.”

Charles smiles slightly, sitting up. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Erik insists, “you did nothing wrong. What did your therapist say?”

Charles shrugs, running the fingers of one hand lightly against the stitches on the inside of his wrist before his hand falls to the bed and he leans against Erik’s side.

“It’s going to be okay, Charles,” Erik says. “It’s just going to take time.”

Charles nods and closes his eyes.

Erik’s mother has to work that night, so Erik makes dinner. He, Charles, and Raven watching TV in the living room together until Charles announces he’s tired and is going to bed.

When Erik finally makes his way upstairs to join him, Charles is already asleep, Erik quietly slipping into the bed beside him.

He isn’t sure how long he sleeps before he’s startled awake by something. He blinks groggily in the dark, feeling disoriented. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that Charles is masturbating in his bed, right beside him.

His eyes widen, his body stiffening as Charles makes a soft, near silent sound. He wonders if he should just lie still and pretend to still be asleep, but Charles makes another sound, his leg twitching beneath the covers, knocking into Erik’s, and Erik turns himself slowly over to his other side.

Charles is on his stomach, his hips moving rhythmically against the mattress.

“ _Charles_ ,” Erik’s voice cracks, and Charles goes still, his breathing hushed against his pillow. He shifts around a moment later so that Erik can see his face in the dim light cast from the flickering streetlight outside.

Erik is frozen but he lets Charles take his hand and lay it against his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. Charles is drenched in cold sweat, his cock tenting his boxers. Erik stares at his own hand as he begins to gently stroke the soft skin of Charles’ belly.

Charles closes his eyes, his hips shifting restlessly, his hand closing back over Erik’s and pushing it down to his cock.

Erik exhales shakily and sits up, watching Charles’ face as he hesitantly tugs Charles’ boxers down.

Charles hisses as the waistband drags against his cock.

Charles is damp and soft beneath his foreskin, wet with precome when Erik wraps loose, warm fingers around him. His grip becoming surer as Charles rocks against his hand, taking Erik’s other hand with his own, lacing their fingers tightly together as he falls back against the bed.

He’s close already, Erik realizes, his limbs trembling and his breathing rough. Erik carefully pulls the hand Charles is clinging to free to brush his hair away from his face, stilling when he notices that Charles’ eyes are wet.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, feeling a jolt of panic, breathless even though he isn’t the one being touched.

Charles shakes his head quickly, squeezing his eyes closed as he arches his hips, seeking more. His cock in Erik’s hand is throbbing and hot. Erik’s grip tightens and Charles goes rigid beneath him, coming without any warning or sound.

Erik tries to keep himself from feeling too much. Charles only wants sex, he isn’t ready or able to be in a relationship, and Erik needs to be okay with that, but when Charles slips his fingers back in between his, going boneless with a soft sigh as he blinks lazily up at Erik, he fails.

He leans away, reaching blindly for the floor until he finds a discarded t-shirt. He wipes Charles off gently, wadding the shirt up and dropping it back to the floor.

Charles is still lying on his back, breathing heavily, with his boxers pulled halfway down his thighs, his shirt rucked up to his chest.

Erik wants to say something but doesn’t, instead he lowers himself back down beside Charles, reaching out to stroke his hair again.

Charles finally moves, lifting his hips and pulling his boxers back up. He curls onto his side, pressing himself back against Erik.

Erik kisses the back of his neck, unable to help himself. Charles sighs again, his hold on Erik’s hand tightening briefly before he starts to slip off into sleep, and his fingers go lax.

The streetlight outside flickers off, the sky outside lightening to grey when Erik finally finds sleep.


	8. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [shadow-drawings](http://shadow-drawings.tumblr.com/) for [this](http://shadow-drawings.tumblr.com/post/131442678436/raven-and-irene-this-only-exists-thanks-to) adorable Raven and Irene artwork. <3

It’s just past four in the morning, Charles’ gaze focusing on the light glowing through the downstairs window at the house next door where his mother, he knows, is still awake.

He exhales slowly, smoke curling outward through the window screen. Behind him on the bed, quiet, even breathing tells him Erik’s still asleep. He takes another drag off his cigarette, his eyes climbing higher, above Kurt and his mother’s house to the blinking lights of planes making their way across the night sky.

He glances back to the light in the window emanating through the layers of his mother’s expensive curtains when a creak out in the hall makes him tense and turn his head to face the open doorway. Another creak tells him there’s someone moving around, that he isn’t the only one awake in this house.

“Charles?” Raven whispers.

Charles stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray Erik keeps on the windowsill, and tiptoes silently past the bed to the door.

“Charles,” Raven whispers again, “are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he answers softly. “What’s the matter? What are you doing up?”

He reaches out a hand for her, barely able to make her out in the dark.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, taking his hand in hers.

Behind him Erik makes a soft sound and shifts on the bed, the springs creaking.

“You want to talk?” Charles whispers.

Raven nods, her hand releasing his as she turns, leading him quietly through the hall and down the stairs.

She's staying in the guest room on the first floor, Charles following her into her room, and dropping down on the bed, looking around at the photos she’s printed out and pinned to the walls. He grabs one that’s sitting on the bedside table, of Irene kissing Raven’s cheek while she grins for the camera.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks seriously as she joins him, taking the photo from his hands, and setting it back on the table.

“Do you plan on going home at all?” she asks.

Charles doesn’t have to think long before answering. “No.”

Raven sighs. “Me neither.”

“But?” Charles presses.

“But I feel guilty about hanging out in Edie’s house,” she says.

“Yeah,” Charles agrees. “Me too.”

“I still have a year of school left,” she says, looking at Charles anxiously, tugging her oversized t-shirt down over her knees as she draws them close to her chest. “What do you think was on Kurt’s computer?” she asks after a moment.

“It’s probably best if we don't know,” Charles answers with a grimace.

“What about Shaw?”

“I don’t care about Shaw,” Charles says, picking at a loose thread on the quilt spread over Raven’s bed, “I’m never going back to that church.”

Raven is quiet a moment, watching him tug at the thread. “Do you think Mom misses us?”

Charles remembers how his mother had pleaded quietly for him to be saved that day in the church when Shaw had called everyone to pray, but he knows the only reason she wanted him to be “cured” was to save herself the embarrassment of having a gay son. He can still see clearly the look of revulsion she’d given him after he’d been caught at his old school with Cody in the lavatory.

“No,” he decides, looking over at her, his chest tightening at how sad she looks. “We’ll be fine without her,” he adds.

“The doctor said you would talk in your own time,” she says suddenly, and Charles tenses, readying himself. “And I’m not supposed to make you feel guilty, but I want to know why. Charles, please tell me why.”

“It was a mistake,” he says, tugging the loose thread free. “I’m sorry.”

She's silent long enough that Charles begins to relax, thinking that’s the end of it, but then she says, “you would have killed me, do you realize that?” And when Charles looks back up at her instead of the thread he’s twisting around his finger, her face is burning red.

“Raven – ”

“I can’t believe you would do something like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I mean it, it was a mistake, I regretted it right after I did it.”

“Cain said you were smiling when they were putting you in the ambulance.”

“I was out of it,” he says.

Raven stares at him, her eyes starting to well with tears. “Did you honestly think I would be okay if you had…if you had…?”

“I…yeah, at the time. I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” she says. “I never would have gotten over it.”

“I’m sorry, Raven,” he says. “I really am.”

“ _Why_ did you do it?”

He looks down again, avoiding her eyes. It’s a long time before he answers. “I feel really ashamed most times,” he says softly. “And like nothing will ever really be okay…like I won’t ever feel normal inside.”

“What happened to you wasn’t your fault,” she says. “You know that, don’t you?”

Charles nods quickly. “It doesn’t help though. I feel like I’m…stained. And everyone can see. Sometimes I can feel myself drifting off, inside my head, and I don’t feel my body anymore. And then I feel trapped, like I need to get out of my skin.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.

“S’okay.”

“I love you,” she says.

Charles still can’t make himself look up because now his sister is crying, he can hear it in her voice.

“I just want you to be okay,” she says.

“I know.”

“I’m here for you,” she says. “If you want to talk, and need someone to listen. I’m always here. You can trust me.”

“I know I can,” Charles says, meeting her eyes again. “Thank you.”

She makes a sound and wipes at her eyes, shoving her hair away from her face. “Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me though, that you won’t ever do anything like that again. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he says.

She reaches for him, grabbing hold of his shirtsleeve and tugging him closer, wrapping her arms around him. “If you ever do anything like that to me again,” she says, sniffing hard, “I’m kicking your ass.”

Charles smiles against her shoulder, and nods.

*

Erik graduates in May, the weekend before Charles. Charles watches him from the bleachers with Raven and Edie, chuckling as Edie proudly takes photo after photo.

After the ceremony Erik steps away from his friends to find Charles in the crowd, hugging him tightly before dragging him back with him over to where Armando, Alex, and Irene are gathered. Raven follows them, sidling up to Irene with a grin on her face. They’re joined moments later by Anna Marie, Sean, and Hank.

“There’s a party tonight at Bohusk’s,” Armando says. “Everyone’s invited.”

“I’ll be there,” Alex grins, and then looking at Charles, “you should come, Charles.”

Charles smiles tightly, trying to hide the fact that he doesn’t really want to go. Beside him Erik must notice because his arm around Charles’ waist tightens just before he says, “actually I’m having dinner with my mother tonight to celebrate, so I won’t be able to make it. Charles, you can come if you want.”

Charles turns to look up at Erik, relaxing slightly. “I’d like that,” he says, and Erik beams.

*

The day of Charles’ graduation, his mother doesn’t show up. Charles collects his diploma, and smiles for Edie’s camera, but both Raven and Erik can tell he’s upset.

It’s not until afterward though, safely away from the crowd of people, that they realize just _how_ upset.

Charles’ face is red by the time he makes it to Erik’s truck, and once he climbs inside, and Raven slams the door closed, he starts to cry.

“Charles,” Erik says, “forget her.”

“We don’t need her,” Raven says, but her voice holds far less conviction than Erik’s. “You said so yourself, we’ll be fine without her.”

“She doesn’t matter,” Erik says. “This is her loss, not yours.”

Charles nods, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

The drive back to Erik’s house is quiet, the radio turned off, Charles stares straight ahead, watching houses and trees rush past while Raven cradles his hand in hers, stroking over his knuckles with her thumb as she stares out through the passenger window.

When they arrive in Erik’s driveway, Charles looks up at the faded Victorian, ignoring Erik staring at him worriedly, blinking back his tears before following Raven out. He doesn’t look at his mother’s house next door.

Edie arrives minutes after they do, and when she sees Charles’ blotchy face and red rimmed eyes, she quickly pulls him into a hug. Charles hugs her back, acutely aware of Erik and Raven standing silently behind him. He inhales sharply, Edie’s hand stroking a soothing line down his back.

Charles tries to remember a time when his mother hugged him like this, and can’t.

“Your mother doesn’t realize what she’s giving up,” Edie says softly. “This is her problem, not yours. It has nothing to do with you.”

Charles opens his mouth to speak, and can’t. Instead he nods, and pulls away, fighting to keep himself from crying again. His face feels heated, and he looks everywhere around the kitchen hoping for a distraction.

“This is something that I have struggled to say,” Edie says, “but at this point, you are better off. I know your mother has made you believe you’re a bad person, and a burden, but that’s not true, do you understand me? I honestly believe your mother is very unhappy herself, _but that has nothing to do with you_. You are strong, Charles, and you are capable of recovering from all this. It might take a little bit of time, and you might get discouraged, but everyone in this house is here for you. I want you to know that.”

Charles wipes at his eyes before mustering a small smile.

“Is there anything you need right now?” she asks. “Do you want to talk? What can I do to help?”

Charles shakes his head, tensing when he feels Erik’s hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be okay,” he says.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Edie presses carefully. “There isn’t anything you need?”

“I’d like to be alone,” he says. “Please.”

“Okay,” Edie says gently. “If you change your mind, you let me know.”

Charles nods, shrugging out from under Erik’s hand, making his way quickly past Raven and up the stairs to Erik’s room where he quietly closes the door behind himself and drops down on the bed, burying his face in one of the pillows.

For a long time he lets himself do nothing but breathe. He doesn’t look at his mother’s house. He’s half asleep when there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s your room, Erik,” he says without opening his eyes.

He hears the door open and close again, footsteps against the wood floor, and then Erik sinks down beside him, hesitating before he starts removing Charles’ shoes.

Charles opens his eyes, sitting up slightly to look at Erik.

“Move over,” Erik says once he’s finished.

Charles scoots himself to the side, closing his eyes again as Erik lies down beside him. He feels calmer now, his thoughts slower, and finally, nearing sleep again, Erik’s hand resting on his side, he allows Edie’s words to soak in.

*

The day Sharon moves away, taking Cain along with her, Charles doesn’t get out of bed. Instead he stares listlessly at the ceiling, chain smoking through half a carton of cigarettes.

His glances up at Raven and Erik as they come into the room, following them with his eyes as they stop at the foot of the bed.

“We’re better off,” Raven says, her voice strong.

Charles considers her a moment before nodding.

“We have each other,” she says, “that’s what matters.”

“Living there was only making you crazy,” Erik says. “Look how much better you’re doing without her.”

“I know,” Charles sighs. “And I’m fine, honestly.”

“You haven’t gotten out of bed,” Raven points out.

“ _Okay_ ,” Charles says. “I will now.”

“And then later,” Raven says, “we’re going out.”

“ _Raven_ ,” Charles begins to protest.

“To the movies,” she says. “Nothing serious.”

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

“Get dressed,” she says.

“ _Okay_ ,” he says. “Are you finished?”

Raven gives him a look before stepping back out of the room at the sound of her phone ringing downstairs.

“Are you going to start making demands too?” Charles asks Erik once she’s gone.

“I’m quitting smoking,” Erik tells him.

Charles arches an eyebrow.

“I think you should too,” Erik says.

“Not that I don’t agree with you wanting to quit smoking,” Charles says, “but what’s brought this on?”

“Remember when you said that shit will kill me?” Erik asks, looking pointedly at the near empty carton of cigarettes lying on the bed beside Charles.

“Yeah,” Charles says.

“Well the same goes for you, and frankly, I’d rather keep you around.”

“Ah I see,” Charles says, “so um, what do you plan to give me if I do quit?”

Erik stares down at him, the corners of his lips twitching as he fights back a grin.

Charles pushes himself up, getting to his knees, the bed creaking under his weight as he makes his way to the edge, settling his hands on Erik’s waist, and pulling him down to the bed.

“Don’t you think I deserve something to see me through withdrawal?”

Erik is blushing now, and the sight of it only encourages Charles.

“Some kind of incentive,” he says, his fingertips wandering up Erik’s back as he leans forward and softly kisses the corner of Erik’s mouth.

“I thought you were upset,” Erik says.

“About my mother?” Charles asks, leaning away again.

Erik nods.

“I am. I’m angry. I wish things had gone differently. I keep wondering what it might have been like if she’d never met Kurt, if things might have been better.”

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” Erik says.

“Yeah, I know, “Charles says. “Honestly though, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t imagine her behaving any differently.”

“You don’t deserve any of the things you’ve been through,” Erik says. “You deserve to be happy.”

Charles kisses him once, closemouthed and fast on the lips. When he leans away again, he whispers, “thank you,” still so close to Erik’s lips.

“For what?” Erik asks, searching his eyes.

“For being there for me,” Charles answers.

He exhales slowly, closing his eyes as Erik hugs him tightly to his chest.

*

“You’re fine,” Erik tells Charles with a smile, smoothing down his hair. “Here.”

Charles takes the offered yarmulke and places it on his head. “What do I do?”

“Nothing, really,” Erik says, “I’ll show you where we are in the siddur if you get lost, otherwise you just make sure you stand when the Aron Kodesh is open. I’ll show you.”

“The what?”

“The Holy Ark.”

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles says, following Erik into synagogue.

“There,” Erik points toward the front of the synagogue at an ornate, black velvet curtain. “It’s where the Torah scrolls are kept. Any time it’s opened, you stand out of respect.”

Charles slows, looking all around the synagogue. It doesn’t look so different from the Sacred Heart Church, he thinks, but there are no statues, no saints looking forlornly down upon him, and there is no Shaw to swoop over him, calling him to confess.

“That’s the Ner Tamid, the Eternal Lamp,” Erik whispers, pointing to the lamp hanging at the front of the synagogue over what he’d told Charles earlier was the Bima, the raised area where the rabbi stands while leading the service. 

There are eight oval shaped windows behind the Bima, letting in a flood of light. In the middle of the bima stands a raised desk with a menorah standing atop it. Hanging directly behind the desk is the black velvet curtain that Erik said was the Aron Kodesh.

“What do you want to do after the service?” Charles asks as they find their seats.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go ice skating with me,” Erik says.

“Ice skating?” Charles repeats with a smile. “I thought you had homework tonight.”

“It can wait,” Erik says.

In the fall Erik had started taking classes at the community college on the other side of town, tentatively planning on eventually transferring to New York University, while Charles found a job at one of the nearby coffee shops, still unsure of what to do with himself.

“I know you’ve been stressed out, so I thought it might help you relax a little,” Erik says.

“Okay,” Charles says, smiling. “Sure.”

They fall into silence as the service begins, Erik showing Charles which prayer in the siddur they are reciting, though it makes little difference to Charles since everything is in Hebrew. He smiles though, watching Erik form the words of the prayer out of the corner of his eye, stealthily reaching for Erik’s hand, squeezing it gently before letting go.

*

Charles’ fingers feel numb inside his gloves, his cheeks red from the chill biting at them, but he’s smiling so wide his face hurts, trying not to laugh as Erik holds tight to his hand and pulls him along fast around the outside of the rink, the cold air whipping against his face, ruffling his hair. They have it mostly to themselves, the lights encircling the rink making the ice sparkle as it rushes by in a white whir.

He leans his weight against Erik when they finally come to a stop, ignoring the few others out on the rink as he tucks his arms inside Erik’s coat.

“You’re warm,” he says, grinning as Erik brings him closer.

It’s beginning to snow, snowflakes lightly dusting their hair, and clinging to their eyelashes.

“If you could have anything,” Charles says, “what would it be?”

Erik’s face flushes dark, his arms tightening around Charles’ waist as he says, “for you to be my boyfriend.”

Charles is silent, seeming to consider for a moment. “Ask me nice,” he says at last.

He laughs as Erik awkwardly gets to his knees.

“You look like you’re about to propose,” Charles snorts.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Erik asks, trying not to laugh himself now.

“I guess,” Charles says, smiling. Erik’s face lights up, and Charles’ smile turns into something softer as he grows serious and says, “ _yes_.”

It’s cold, the temperature falling fast the later it gets, but Charles feels warmth spreading through his chest as he helps Erik climb back to his feet, and loops his arms around his neck, pulling him down to softly press their lips together in a kiss.


End file.
